


Blue Masquerade

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: (hopefully), Angst, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humour, M/M, Malum as the ultimate brotp of brotps, References to Depression, Stupid Boys, Unrequited Love, and Cashton, because I'm weak for those, because no fic is complete without a healthy dose of Cashton, but it follows all events through 2015 to mid-2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 85,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m, uh,” Luke starts and stops, fiddling with his thumb ring. He shakes himself like he’s stopping a tangential thought and looks up at the three of them. “I’m kind of dating someone?” </p><p>Michael doesn’t react. </p><p>The news, although accompanied by a dull stab of pain somewhere within the vicinity of his heart, isn’t surprising. He’d watched Luke sneak back into the house with goofy smiles and barely receding hickeys for the past two weeks. So unless Luke had met a nice vampire out in West Hollywood, there was no other possibility. He’d known. </p><p>And that's not even how it starts.<br/> </p><p>~~~</p><p>Michael is in love with Luke. That much is clear. Well, to Calum, Ashton and the rest of the world anyway. Luke is blissfully oblivious to the blatant signs. He gets a girlfriend. Michael tries to move on. </p><p>Spoiler: he fails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walked across a landmine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightupthedark16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightupthedark16/gifts).



> ALRIGHT. New chaptered fic! I hope this one works out better than the others I've started and never finished/posted. 
> 
> Alright, so! Enjoy! :D
> 
> Edit:
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, this one was for you and I'm finally giving it to you, a year later...surprise?

Michael wonders sometimes if things would have been different if he’d fessed up to this whole thing back in year ten. If he’d given into Calum’s incessant pestering and admitted that _yes,_ he was a bit in love with the small blond human that made YouTube covers under hemmo1996. He supposes that the denial wasn’t helped by the fact that hemmo1996 went to their school and sat two seats down from Michael in maths class. High school crushes were the _worst._

Or so he would have agreed, four years ago. But now, one debut album and two trips around the world later, he’s admitted to himself that it’s spiralled beyond a _crush_ and landed firmly in life-altering territory in the shape of immovable feelings. He’s _in love._ With _Luke._

UGH.

His head drops back against the hard edge of the bath tub and he rubs two soapy hands down his face. It stings as bubbles cling to the inside corners of his eyes.

_“Oi!”_

There’s a pounding at the door. Michael wonders distantly if they’ll eventually knock the door right off the hinges with all the banging they do on it.

“Get your soggy arse out of there, band meeting.”

A sigh drifts out of Michael and he raises his voice. _“Now?_ Honestly you guys fucking suck.”

“Luke has news,” is all Ashton offers before the sound of footsteps fades away.

Michael hates the fact that his stomach twists in an ugly knot at the words. Because he knows. He knows what this is going to be. But what was the rush anyway? Maybe someone was pregnant.

He snorts to himself. Right.

“Well,” he mutters, and that’s that. He drains the bath and hops in to the shower to wash off the soap, grumbling about wasted water and the ever-present coil of tension in his shoulders.

 

*

 

Luke is sitting on the three-seater couch alone, Calum and Ashton having taken up the two armchairs opposite him as if they’re about to conduct a business contract meeting.

He rolls his eyes at the formality as he plops into the third armchair, slinging his legs up and over the side. “So, who’s pregnant?”

The look he gets from Luke could’ve plunged earth into a second Ice Age but Michael just raises an eyebrow at him and ignores the nauseated turn of his stomach. He also ignores the flash of Calum’s eyes in his direction. 

_You know nothing, Calum Hood._

“I’m, uh,” Luke starts and stops, fiddling with his thumb ring. He shakes himself like he’s stopping himself on a tangent and looks up at the three of them. “I’m kind of dating someone?”

Michael doesn’t react. He’s proud of the blank face he manages to keep.

The news, although accompanied by a dull stab of pain somewhere within the vicinity of his heart, isn’t surprising. He’d watched Luke sneak back into the house with goofy smiles and barely receding hickeys for the past two weeks. So unless Luke had met a nice vampire out in West Hollywood, there could have been no other possibility. He’d known.

He also wants to counter Luke’s hesitant announcement with _are you asking us or telling us_ but refrains, knowing that if he starts out bitterly, he won’t stop until he burns himself out. That wouldn’t be fun for anyone.

Ashton immediately breaks out into a beaming, dimply smile that makes Michael wants to punch someone because _Jesus,_ sometimes he really does sympathise with their fans. That smile should be labelled with a health warning.

 _Caution: prone to cause long-lasting side effects, including and not restricted to breathlessness and severe heart palpitations. Also known to lead to feelings of nausea and sadness resulting from the common affliction, LOVE._  

“Luke, that’s sick, bro! Good on you!” Ashton reaches across the coffee table for a fist bump that Luke responds to with a giggling laugh.

That too, Michael thinks with a sour huff, should be labelled as dangerous and a general risk to the future of humanity.

“Thanks, man.”

Calum’s face contorts into the ugliest mock-sad expression that Michael has ever seen. “My boy’s growing up,” he weeps, wiping his eyes. “I’m so happy!”

“Fuck off, Cal,” the youngest groans, throwing a cushion at his face. “I’ve had more girlfriends than _you.”_

Michael snorts and all the attention is suddenly on him. He shrugs. “One,” he says, “One more girlfriend than him. Don’t get cocky, Lucas.”

“Yeah, don’t get cocky, Lucas,” Calum echoes, leaning back against the couch. “You got no game.”

“Says the forever alone douchebag to the guy who actually has a girlfriend,” Ashton states, amused. “Alright, enough. Do we get to meet her?”

Calum grumbles under his breath about betrayal and Michael, despite knowing that it makes no sense, empathises as he watches the sparkle of Luke’s _blueblueblue_ eyes.

“Uh, soon?” Luke bites at his lip ring and Michael curses him into the seventh circle of hell. “I’ll ask and let you know.”

Michael is good most days, you know? He’s got this whole thing down to an _art_ form. He knows how to forget that he’s in love with Luke. He knows how to hide the flare of longing in his stomach on those days that he forgets how to forget.

Today threw him much further from his normal routine than he expected and there’s an unsettled feeling in his stomach that he chooses, quite foolishly, to ignore.

“What’s her name anyways?” Ashton asks.

The dopey look that floods Luke’s face kind of makes Michael want to sky dive without a parachute.

“Arzaylea.”

“Cute.” Ashton nods. “Flowery. It’s nice.”

 _Nice_ is not the word Michael would use but he tramples down the ugly head of jealousy as it rears its head.

“Can I go back to my bath now or does anyone else have any unsurprising pieces of news that I need to pretend to be surprised for?”

Today is not a good day. The words trip off his tongue, unbidden and rushed, and Michael cringes internally. _Fuck._

So, he does the only thing he can think of it.

He flees the room without looking at Luke.

But Michael catches the quick look that gets exchanged between Calum and Ashton and _knows,_ without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s in for an intervention. Time and place would be determined by whoever had the balls to come knocking at Michael’s door.

Man, it’s been _way_ too long since the last inquisition and Michael kind of misses them cornering him about stuff that is absolutely _none_ of their fucking business.

He almost snorts and wonders if one day he would take over the world with one very well-placed sarcastic word. He’d be a great dictator, he’d fair but firmly cruel. And he would get rid of stupid shit like Valentine’s Day. What a stupid-ass holiday.

Honestly. Who needs love. Love sucks balls.

 

*       

 

Michael misses dinner.

While that wouldn’t be a cause of concern for most people, it apparently sends alarm bells clanging in Calum’s head because he turns up at Michael’s bedroom door with a bowl of pasta and a bottle of Michael’s favourite beer.

Michael loves Calum. So much. He had done something very right in his past to deserve someone like Calum Hood.

A smile flickers across his face as he sets his laptop on the bedside table and pats the bed. “Thanks, mum.”

Calum snorts, kicking the door shut before handing over the food and settling back against the headboard next to him. “You’re in a mood.”  

So Ashton had sent Calum then. Coward.

“Nope,” Michael manages around a mouthful of cheesy pasta spirals. He swallows. “I’m not.”

His best friend is silent. And then, “Mike, can I ask something?”

“Already did.”

He makes a face at Calum’s flat look, acquiescing by waving his fork and gesturing for him to continue.

“You like Luke.”

Well no one can say Calum tried to skirt around the issue or ran away from the elephant in the room. Didn’t even soften the blow, oh no, he went straight for the fucking jugular. Did he mention that he hates Calum?

Michael has to force himself not to choke on the beer he starts to swallow, trying to hide the way he pants slightly when he breathes in.

 _Of course I like Luke,_ he wants to say, _he’s my best friend._ But he doesn’t. Because he knows how it sounds. How it’ll sound coming out of his mouth, irrefutably tinged with denial no matter how hard he tries.

“That’s not a question,” he says instead.

“Fuck’s sake, you stubborn arse.” Calum groans around a sigh. “You like Luke, _don’t you?”_ He emphasises the pitched inflection with a pointed look at Michael.

“Nope. No clue what you’re on about.”

He really should stop denying this at some point but alas, today is not the day.

“Twelve years. _Twelve_ years I’ve known you. Stop trying to lie to me.”

Michael glances away from the pasta at Calum. “Not lying.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. _Fine.”_ The bassist throws up his hands. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Just, apologise to Luke for earlier.”

 _Should apologise to me,_ Michael thinks to himself as his appetite fades away at the thought of this Arzaylea girl _._ _I’m the one whose heart’s being ripped to shreds._

Calum’s fingers squeeze his wrist and it snaps him out of his head in time to see a tiny smile curl into his cheek.

“What?” Michael asks, downing half the bottle of beer and wiping the back of his mouth. It’s bitter on his tongue and he curses Luke for making even _this_ something he can’t enjoy properly.

“Nah.” Calum’s tone is light and airy, _pleased_ like he knows something _,_ but he just shrugs outwardly. “Go to sleep, wake up call’s at 5.”

“Yes, _mum.”_

Calum sniffs as he gets to his feet and takes the bowl out of hands. “I hate you.” But he brushes a hand over Michael’s mess of hair like his mum used to do at their sleepovers and heads for the door. “’Night.”

“’Night, Cal.”

“Don’t be a dick tomorrow, yeah?” Calum pauses by the door, throwing him a look. “Sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

Michael groans silently as he rubs his hands down his face. He slides down the bed and stares at the empty expanse of ceiling.

_Sleep it off._

A humourless chuckle leaks out of him and falls flat. If he could’ve done that, he’d have done it years ago. Shoving a pillow over his face as memories of a fourteen-year-old Luke chortling to one of his many stupid jokes comes to mind, Michael yells himself hoarse as quietly as he can. Stupid squishy cheeks and twinkly blue eyes and cute boop-able nose.

Of course, he _would_ be the one who fell for his best friend. What the fuck did the universe have against him anyway?

He’d been a good boy most of his life. _Hadn’t he?_

Pulling the pillow away, Michael raises both hands and pulls two middle fingers at the ceiling.

Fuck you, God _. Fuck. You._


	2. "Day Off"

“It’s a great morning, isn’t it?” Michael trills as he waltzes into the kitchen. “Something about today feels awesome.”

It’s pitch black outside still; a cold, barren wasteland of dead leaves and even deader streets and it warms Michael to know that London appreciates the darkness inside his soul. He loves this weather.  

Luke is the only one at the counter, a bowl of honey nut cheerios drowned in milk in front of him. He looks up, eyebrows rising as Michael grabs the half-empty bottle of chocolate milk from the fridge and downs most of it in one go.

“Ash will kill you if you finish it.”

He looks good, is the thing. It may be a ridiculously early hour in the morning and he may just have woken up, but Luke just. He looks _good._ With his messy bedhead, sleep-hazed blue eyes and the ratty All Time Low sleep shirt, he looks like he’s walked out of Michael’s dreams and is about to suggest that they should go back to bed and cuddle for warmth.

Michael tears his eyes away from where Luke’s messy fringe is falling into his eyes and grabs an orange before he gets desperate enough to wish for hard liquor at 5 a.m.

“Ash will survive. But you on the other hand. If you eat any more of those, you’ll turn into a honey nut cheerio,” he says, patting Luke’s back as he breezes past. “Keep off the sugar, honey.”

Michael is aware that he’s acting like a complete fruit loop—all the cereal references today—like he’s done a one-eighty overnight, but he needs to show Luke that they’re fine, no hard feelings left over from last night.

“Did you hit your head?” Luke eyes him as he leans a hip against the stove and starts peeling the orange. “Has the bleach finally gone to your head?”

“’Course not, bro, I’m just happy.”

“It’s five thirty in the morning.”

Michael cocks an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I can’t be happy at five thirty in the morning? Not all of us are dragons in the morning like you, Lucas.”

As Calum and Ashton come crashing in, high on endorphins from their godforsaken tryst in the gym—Michael doesn’t understand how someone as grumpy as Calum can be forced to work out at arse o’clock in the morning—Luke snorts.

“You’ve finally gone fucking crazy.”

“Crazy in _luuuuuurve,”_ Calum screech-sings, hanging off Ashton’s shoulder with a wide grin on his face. “Aren’t you, Michael?”

Michael flattens him with a look, wincing as juice from the orange leaks down his hand and seeps into a small cut in his palm. “You’re the one leeched onto Ash like he’s just sucked your brains out your dick, bro.”

Ashton groans, palming his face, and shakes Calum off. “Mike, that’s gross. Cal, please go and shower, you stink and I refuse to do interviews smelling dried sweat off you all day. And you.” He waves one earphone at Luke. “Calum picked up your phone by accident this morning and mate, you have like, twenty-five texts from your girl, so you might want to check that.”

It’s like a rock drops in Michael’s stomach and the giddiness he had felt vanishes like morning mist over the mountains.

Right.

_Unrequited love fucking sucks._

Calum is heading for the stairs and Michael abandons the half peeled orange on the counter, slinking out behind Ashton. His hands are sticky with juice and he wipes them down his shirt, unable to find it in himself to care about the inevitable stain.

“Oi,” he calls, “Wait for me.”

Luke is saying something to Ashton as Calum turns around with a bright look in his dark coffee eyes and slings a sweat-soaked arm over Michael’s shoulders.

“You alright?”

Michael brushes off the concern and ignores the sticky feeling of sweat sliding against his skin. “Yeah, just tired as fuck.”

“’Least we get to meet Oprah today.”

A wide grin falls across his face. He’d almost forgotten. “Fuck, we do, don’t we? Ashton might propose to her on sight.”

“Not before you do.”

Michael snorts, “You’re just jealous that your boyfriend loves Oprah more than you.”

“ _Take that back, you bastard,”_ Calum shrieks, twisting Michael’s nipple hard. “Ashton fucking _loves_ me.”

He forgets about stupid Luke and the stupid texts as he and Calum shove each other up the stairs and across the hallways to their rooms.

 

*

 

Until, of course, he wakes up the next morning to four billion tweets that are in various states of disbelief, bitterness and downright animosity.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, eyes bleary as he blinks away sleep and scrolls down his Twitter feed. One, unexpectedly directed at him, catches his eye.

_@sassyhemm0: @Michael5SOS she’s a petty ass bitch why the fuck is Luke dating her_

Michael frowns because he could’ve sworn Luke mentioned something about laying low, and he scrolls further down—

He stares, eyes widening, at the picture on his screen. Something violently unfunny is happening in his chest and he rubs a hand across his sternum. He feels mildly sick.

Oh.

So much for indifference.

Despite the claws that are resting on Luke’s cheek, even he has to admit that she is pretty. But maybe he’d prefer the vampire in West Hollywood over whoever this girl was.

A breath stutters through his mouth and Michael swallows past the needles in his throat. It’s just past ten in the morning and he’s suddenly very glad that they have a day off between the promo concerts because he plans to stay in this room all day.

There’s a banging at his door.

“Mike? You awake?”

He says nothing. Another round of knocking.

“Hey, tell me you’re awake.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Mike, we have to—”

Anger flares like a stoked fire and before he can stop it, he’s screaming loud enough that his vocal chords screech in pain, already exhausted from the day before.

“ _Leave me the fuck alone!”_

It reverberates in deafening echoes in the stillness of the room, sudden and desperate, as his voice cracks noticeably at the end. His shoulders hunch as he curls up against the headboard, eyes aching shockingly like he’s going to cry.

Fuck. No he isn’t. He isn’t going to _cry._ He won’t.

The handle squeaks as it’s turned and the door cracks open. Light filters in around a head of shaggy hair and Michael grits his teeth to stop snarling at Ashton.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you need me to ask you in French?” He snaps. “ _Get. Out.”_

Ashton comes in fully, backlit light some stupid, interfering, avenging angel. “It’s ten in the morning, what crawled up your arse and died?”

He just shakes his head and makes no move to answer.

At least, he has no plans to until Ashton dives for his phone. _Damn_ him for being annoyingly perceptive.

His face floods in a hot blush as Ashton’s eyebrows rise higher and higher as he glances between Michael’s mutinous face and the photo of Luke and his girlfriend on the screen.

“Mate—”

“Don’t,” Michael mutters, deflating as wariness seeps into his voice. He palms his heated cheeks, “Just…don’t.”

Ashton perches on the edge of the bed, long fingers tapping along the side of the phone. “I’m sorry.”

Michael almost wants to laugh, to wave it off and say that he’s just annoyed that Luke didn’t tell them earlier, that he’s annoyed that this girl is posting photos like this when Luke wanted to keep the whole thing quiet. But in that moment, he can’t find it in himself to lie to Ashton’s face.

“It’s—whatever, it’s whatever. I’ll get over this stupid crush and we’ll all move on,” he says finally, not looking at Ashton directly.

A hand reaches out to squeeze his arm and Michael drags in a sharp breath at the sympathy that shines in the depths of Ashton’s hazel eyes when he makes himself look up.

“I think we both know it’s a lot more than that,” the blond says and Michael’s stomach swoops to the ground. “I’m sorry, but like, for what it’s worth, I’m here if you wanna talk, yeah?”

“Can we ignore the fact that I have a big gay crush and move on with our lives?” Michael asks faintly. “I’ll be fine.”

Ashton grins a little. “As long as I get to tell Calum.”

He groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Fuck. Okay, _fine_ but if Calum gloats too much, I’ll be the one dumping all your clothes in the pool.”

Laughing, the older boy gets to his feet. “Calum’s known about your _big gay crush_ as it were since high school, man, he won’t stop gloating any time soon.”

“I hate you all.”

Ashton just smirks, dimple caving into his cheek. “I have verbal proof that you do not, in fact, hate at least one of us.”

Michael is up on his knees and chucking a pillow at Ashton’s face as hard as he can before anyone can move. “I hate _you.”_

Ashton catches the pillow with his insane reflexes and a petulant scowl furrows Michael’s eyebrows as the grin on his face turns into one resembling the Cheshire Cat.

“Come down for brunch, yeah?” He says as he heads out the door. “And get rid of that picture before you crush your phone or something.”

Michael spends a good few seconds mocking Ashton before rolling his eyes and dropping back onto the bed. The picture of Luke and his girlfriend is still pulled up on his phone and he supresses a sigh before swiping it away.

“Oh and Michael?” Ashton’s head pops back around the door, “We have a last minute studio thing, the car’s leaving in an hour.”

Michael groans as Ashton disappears once again.

“Of course we do.” Because when was a day off really a day off in this damn industry?


	3. A guy named Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I took so long! But here's chapter 3 ^_^ 
> 
> I'm so sorry it's short, but I promise the next one will be longer. As for the introduction of certain popstars, I hope you don't mind ;) but hopefully, it'll make sense as the story progresses.
> 
> But for now, enjoy! It's a lighthearted chapter, a bit of a filler if you will.

“So.”

Michael keeps his eyes glued to his guitar strings, working through random chord progressions to keep his mind occupied while he ignores the boy staring at him. Luke’s soaring vocals billow through the studio and his fingers stumble across the fret board. 

“Ashton told me.”

 _“I will fight to fix and get things right…”_ Luke’s voice cracks and he grumbles, muttering apologies.

Michael has to fight a half smile that quirks up into his cheek. And then he’s yelping in pain as his right arm aches, stinging like he’d been slapped with nettles.

“The _fuck_ was that for?” He rounds on Calum, scowling.

Calum rolls his eyes. “For ignoring me, you bastard. And for not telling me.”

“You already knew.”

“Would’ve liked to hear it from _you.”_

Michael sighs, rubs a hand across his head. “Can we not do this?”

As Calum is about to reply, Michael’s phone pings and a relieved grin works up the corners of his lips. A reply sits in his Twitter DMs from one Harry Styles. _Thank fuck._

“Who’s it?”

Michael angles his phone away from Calum’s prying eyes and sticks his tongue out with childish leer. “None of your business, you nosy shit.”

When he glances at his phone though, the grin springs back hard onto his face and he can’t really find it in himself to care when Calum raises an eyebrow at him.

 

_From: Harry_

_Michael Clifford! Hiiii_

_In LA for a few days actually._

_I’ll send a car for you tomorrow night if you still want to catch up?_

_To: Harry_

_Oh thank god you replied_

_Yes, please_

_I need advice_

“Wow, who’re _you_ talking to?”

Luke’s voice snaps him out of the relieved bubble he’d been encased in, the _thank god he replied otherwise I’d have felt like a fool_ bubble. Michael glances up at the amused look on his face and shrugs.

“No one.”

Calum snorts from next to him. “Some guy named Harry _.”_

“You’re chatting up a guy named _Harry_?” Luke splutters and almost snorts water out of his nose.

“Who’s chatting up a guy named Harry?” Ashton asks as he walks in, slinging his long body into a chair and raising an eyebrow as he wedges a foot into the carpet to stop the chair from spinning out of control.

“Michael.” Calum and Luke chorus immediately.

Michael scowls at the startled look at Ashton gives him. “I’m not chatting up anyone—”

His phone pings.

“Oh look, it’s your _lover,”_ Luke giggles. Michael wants to run him through with a broad sword.

“It’s Harry Styles, shitbag,” Michael mutters as he swipes in to check the reply. “Louis would have me strung from the Christmas tree at The Grove, naked _and_ gagged, for the paps to find if I was chatting up Harry so maybe not.”

The room rings with shocked surprise.

“Harry _Styles?”_

 

_From: Harry_

_I have a vague idea._

_More than a vague idea, Harold. It’s Luke isn’t it ;)_

_This is Louis, babe xx_

 

Michael flushes and thumbs out a reply without looking up at his band.  

 

_To: Harry_

_Fuck off_

_I’ll see you tomorrow_

 

“Yes, Harry Styles,” He says, locking his phone and returning to the guitar. “Problem?”

Luke stares at him for a moment longer before shrugging. “You haven’t spoken in ages, though.”

Ashton’s eyes are boring into the side of his head and Michael really wants to throw something at him to make him stop. But he fiddles with his pick instead and studies the confusion in Luke’s eyes.

“No we haven’t. But he’s in town for promo and wants to catch up.” The lie tumbles out, convincing and solid in the eye-contact that he refuses to break. “Styfford revival.”

“I’m sure,” Luke mumbles as he pushes off the soundboard and walks into the recording booth.

Feldy makes an amused sound from where he’s leaning back against the soundboard, breaking his silence, and Michael catches a flash of a grin as it reflects in the glass wall when he turns around.

“Shut up, John.”

Feldy snorts and gestures for Luke to take it from the top.   

“What’re you up to?” Ashton asks him, fingers tapping on his thigh as he considers Michael with his head tipped to the side.

Michael shrugs, a sparkling grin aimed in the elder boy’s direction, and says nothing as he turns his attention back to the guitar in his lap.

Luke’s voice seems to ascend into some eerie, angel-like quality as he croons the melody for _Catch Fire_.

Ashton’s bellow drowns it out and shocks Michael out of his daze as his head snaps towards the sound and startled laughter gives way to gleeful cackling when he finds Ashton sprawled on the floor with Calum starfished on top of him with his head tucked adorably into the drummer’s neck.

It’s a pity, Michael thinks, that cashton isn’t real. They’d be good for each other. But then again, Bryana is incredibly sweet and Ashton is very dopey around her. It’s all very sickening and endearing.  

Feldy’s dismayed sigh implores for patience from the high heavens as Luke breaks off mid-note and collapses into squeaky laughter.

“Lu— _Luke!_ If you’re not going to fucking sing— _LUKE!”_

Michael is in tears as he gasps for breath, his sides in aching as stitches rip up his ribs, and he wheezes in pain.

“Remind me to never give you sugar after four in the afternoon ever again,” a wary Feldy mutters into his palm.

Michael’s phone pings as he attempts to control his breathing and not _die._ Still laughing weakly, he unlocks it.

 

_From: Harry_

_That’s no way to treat your elders, Clifford_

_But I see Lover Boy™ is giving you trouble ;)_

_Ignore Lou. See you tomorrow Michael._


	4. Jace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE'S CHAPTER FOUR! 
> 
> I hope you guys like it hahaha
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s almost eleven p.m. by the time Harry sends him a message the next night to say that the car would be there in twenty minutes. Michael is alone in his hotel room and he lets the relieved grin ache in his cheeks without one of his arsehole best friends teasing him for it.

They themselves had only finished up promo for the day two hours ago and Michael, although exhausted and irritated with the constantly repeated questions—okay, seriously though, why are their fans so interested in knowing their Disney preferences, he’s so fucking over _Disney_ —is rather excited to see Harry again. It’s hard, isn’t it, to forget just how star-struck he had been, how cringe-worthy his puppy love had been for the length of Take Me Home. How glued he had been to Harry’s side whenever he could be.

 _At least he doesn’t hate me_ , Michael thinks as he hunts through his suitcase for a new shirt.

Then comes the problem of sneaking out without his band finding out that he’s actually leaving without them.

Earlier in the day, Luke had announced that it would be awesome to see the 1D boys again and although Calum had sliced Michael an odd look, he had agreed.

Michael rolls his eyes as he remembers panicking and wondering how to break it to them that they _couldn’t_ tag along. Really, the answer is right under his nose.

Ashton.

 

_To: Ashton US work_

_You’ll be free from pranks for the next two weeks if you keep them occupied when I leave_

_You have 10 mins_

Thankfully, Ashton replies within a few seconds.

 

_From: Ashton US work_

_Make it a month and they’ll never know you’re gone_

_To: Ashton US work_

_Marry me_

_From: Ashton US work_

_Have fun with Larry_

_I’ll never need details about the threesome_

Michael grins as he pockets his wallet, shooting a text to Jamie, their security, to get him down to the lobby and into the car without being recognised.

 

*

 

“Look who it is! Blimey, you fookin’ Aussies get taller every time I see ya.”

Louis’ thick accent is a welcome change and Michael accepts the back-thumping hug with a grin.

“Hey! Been ages, man.”

“Since you lot decided you wanted to, what was it, _not_ be a boyband, we figured we shouldn’t hang around to taint your rep, ruin your street cred, as it were,” Louis teases as he closes and locks the door behind them.

Michael snorts. “Fuck off, it wasn’t like that and for the record, we _aren’t_ a boyband.”

Louis pokes at him cheerfully nonetheless.

“Hey, Michael.”

Harry is standing in the entrance foyer behind with his hair cascading to shoulders in soft waves and a dimply grin that could beat Ashton’s. His eyes are a striking green, accentuated by the baby-blue shirt he’s wearing.

“You get more attractive every fucking time I see you,” Michael groans, scowling playfully.

He, rather embarrassingly, falls into Harry’s arms when he trips over, his shoe catching on the polished hardwood floors. Flushing as sniggers rise behind him, Michael clings to Harry for a moment too long to annoy Louis before stepping back.

“See you missed Harry a lot,” Louis comments.

Michael doesn’t miss the flash of that infamous biting grin over the shoulder as the eldest leads them to a living room with soaring ceilings and the most ornate fireplace Michael’s ever seen in his life. Guaranteed, he hasn’t actually seen that many fireplaces in his life.

“What can I say, it’s easy to miss him,” Michael says, looking away from the beautiful mantelpiece.

Harry chuckles as Louis gives him a long-suffering look.

“Although I suppose you’d know that better, wouldn’t you?” Michael adds with a snarky smile at the unimpressed man as he collapses onto the big couch.

“Yeah, yeah, shut it, ya giant Australian dickhead.”

“So,” Harry interrupts, handing Michael a bottle of beer. He understands why a moment later. “Luke, then?”

Right. The reason he’s actually here isn’t to banter with Louis Tomlinson, as fun as it was.

“Luke,” he repeats on a sigh. “I fucking hate him.”

Louis’ snort is melodious as he exhales into his bottle. “Been there, done that, become a professional at it.” He ignores Harrys quelling look. “Gotten himself a girlfriend, has he?”

Michael shrugs. There’s a burn somewhere in his chest that he ignores. “How’d you know?”

“I read.”

“Is she nice?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I really—we haven’t met her yet. She’s fucking gorgeous though,” he adds belatedly. Begrudgingly.

“Something rotten in the state of California,” Louis mumbles. “I sense jealousy.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Stop quoting Hamlet, Captain Obvious. Let Michael rant about the girl who’s stolen his boy.”

“Not my boy,” Michael mutters, a thread of bitterness colouring his words.  

Louis watches him with a sombre look, his blue eyes growing soft and sad, sympathetic. Michael can see his fingers curling deep into Harry’s hair from where his arm is resting on the back of the couch and Michael’s stomach twists, a shrug pulling his shoulders up and down, mechanical. Resigned.

“My guess is that you’d like to be drunk for this conversation,” Harry muses out loud and he flashes a grin in Michael’s direction. “So why don’t you open that bottle and tell me about Luke.”

“Gayest sleepover in history,” Louis says out of the corner of his mouth. “Feelings. We might as well gossip about boys while we’re at it. Oh wait.”

Harry cuffs him over the head. “Shut it with the stereotypes, wanker.”

He gets a roll of arctic blue eyes in return.

Michael chuckles, watching the two of them bicker for a moment. It’s endearing and he feels disgustingly alone. A groan tumbles out of him, head dropping back against the couch.

“Luke,” Harry prompts with a soft nudge of his toe to Michael’s calf.

“Luke.” Michael downs most of the bottle. It’s cold and bitter on his tongue, like Luke’s name. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“If I were you,” Louis starts, tipping his bottle at Michael, “I’d find a fake boyfriend.” 

Harry sighs. “That’s terrible advice.”

Louis bares his teeth in a shark-like grin and Michael knows that the rest of the night would be spent watching them snipe at each other and give advice that would either be entirely different or surprisingly complimentary.

“You should get an actual boyfriend,” Harry says, a hand pressed over Louis’ mouth, ignoring his boyfriend’s struggles. “Someone you can be yourself with. Someone supportive. If that’s what you want, of course.”

Michael chuckles a little. Surprisingly complimentary it is, then.

 

*

 

Apparently, Michael has taken to following absolutely _loony_ advice from know-it-all popstars, because here he is, two days later, at a non-descript gay club in an obscure part of LA, chatting up a guy.

Getting away from the inquisition hadn’t been too difficult. A yawn, a well-executed stumble up the stairs and a locked door is all it had taken. Sneaking out of his second floor window had been an experience he is unlikely to forget. Jamie had parked down the street and when Michael had finally scrambled into the car, the man had snorted and told him to watch his step on the way back up.

“The name’s Jace,” Tall and handsome murmurs and his smile could’ve won Hollywood awards. Michael likes him instantly.

The guy is thankfully and distractingly gorgeous. Skin like polished marble under the flashing neon lights, his eyes burn dark blue, the colour of the sky before dawn breaks, and Michael is half sure that jawline could cut diamonds. His blonde hair is streaked with highlights and his jeans, _dear Jesus,_ are tighter than anything Michael has ever worn in his life. Which says something.

“Wanna dance, rockstar?” The flirty Cali accent drips like warm honey and Michael nods, because well, he’s gotta start somewhere.

 

*

 

Apparently he started in the right place because an hour and a half later, he has Jace pinned to a wall.

Unfortunately, it isn’t the exciting kind of pinning. He’s just finished explaining, after multiple failed attempts to talk around being in love with his best friend and giving up in the end, that he needs a boyfriend.

Jace’s expression is growing more amused by the second. “So you’re telling me,” he says when Michael falls silent, “that you, Michael Clifford from 5SOS, need a fake boyfriend because the _guy_ that you’re in love with happens to be your best friend, Luke Hemmings from 5SOS, who now has a girlfriend?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid,” Michael mutters, rubbing a hand through his hair. The two beers he’s had have apparently gone to his head because here he is, confessing his tragic life story to a complete stranger. A stranger who could go to the press tomorrow. A sigh drifts out of him. “I’m going to kill Louis.”

“If you’re talking about Louis Tomlinson, man, I’m really going to need another drink.”

Michael manages a wry smile and waves a hand at the bartender. The drink appears within minutes.

Jace downs half of his sudden Screwdriver, an awed smile pulling at his mouth. “Fuck. Your life always this…silver spoon-ish?”

“It has its moments.” Michael can’t help but laugh. He takes a chance. “So, about the…position?”

“On my back, handcuffed,” Jace says, blue eyes glittering.

Michael doesn’t miss a beat. “If you add a cock ring, I’m game.” When Jace throws his head back and laughs openly, Michael feels strangely pleased.

_Maybe this could work._

“Alright, rockstar, I’ll bite. I’ve been bored out of my mind these past few months.” Expression settling into one of reluctant curiosity and amusement, Jace holds out a hand. “You got yourself a boyfriend.”

Michael grins, shaking his hand. A mantle of relief settles over his shoulders and he shrugs, leaning in to press a cheeky kiss to Jace’s cheek. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll have no choice but to throw you to my lawyers. They’re a vicious breed.”

“I bagged Michael Clifford.” Jace’s grin twists into smouldering smirk as Michael pulls away. His eyes flash bright blue as a spotlight floods them for a heartbeat. “Who needs more satisfaction than that?”

“Oh I like you,” Michael says. “We’re gonna be great friends.”

“Count on it, rockstar.”

 

*

 

Louis screeches when Michael calls him the next morning and it leaves his ear drums aching. His voice is so loud over the speaker that Calum pokes his head in the door of his bedroom with a raised eyebrow.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“None of your business.” Michael throws a pair of balled up socks at the disbelieving face of his annoying best friend. “ _OUT!_ And shut the door behind you!”

Calum flees, laughing. “I’ll get it out of you yet, Clifford!” The door clicks shut behind him.

Louis, still on the line, audibly calms himself down. “You got yourself a fake boyfriend? Not pulling me leg are ya, Clifford?”

“No,” Michael groans. “Unfortunately not.”

“You actually— _HAZZA, you owe me that new jacket from ADIDAS!”_

The faint voice of Harry Styles echoes down the line. _“Fuck you, Michael!”_

Laughter edging on hysterical, Michael sets his phone on his thighs and buries his face in his hands. “The boys are going to kill me.”

“Love, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

“It was your idea, you shit!” Michael exclaims as Louis cackles.

His heart is beating hard in his chest as he thinks about Jace. Jace with his killer not-quite-the-right-blue eyes and surfer blond hair falling over his forehead, with his tight jeans and long, _long_ legs—

Michael stiffens, his spine cracking as he sits up ram-rod straight, a hand flying over his mouth. A single, breathless curse falls out of his mouth.

“Oh _fuck.”_

Louis stops mid-rant. “Michael?”

He can’t talk. He physically cannot make himself speak, throat working but no sound coming out, shallow, warm, moist breaths fan across his palm.

“Mike, babe, you alright?”

“Louis,” he croaks, chest tight. “I fucked up.” And the words tumble out from there, rushed and uncensored in a torrent of frantic, whispered sentences.

Louis seems to take a moment to digest and the stunned silence rings like old prison bells in Michael’s ears, a pulsing ache starting in his temples. He prays that Louis doesn’t laugh.

“Oh Michael…” comes down the line finally. It’s soft and sympathetic and Michael _hates_ the sound of it, even more than he would have hated laughter.

He can hear Louis talking to Harry, a quick, abridged version of events recounting Michael’s _stupid_ mistake.

“Michael?” Harry says gently. “You okay?”

“No,” he whispers, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Not really.”

“You free tonight?”

He isn’t, they have some party to show their faces at. But… “I can get away.” A sighs drains his energy and his breath stirs the air, dust particles glittering in the sunlight streaming across the floor. “I need to get away.”

“Bring Jace and come to the house,” Harry says. “Someone needs to meet this guy and suss him out.”

Michael snorts, somewhat amused at long last. “And what, my band not good enough?”

“Your _band,”_ Louis huffs, “also consists of your new boyfriend’s fucking twin, love, so decide which you’d prefer.”

Red bursts across his cheeks and Michael ducks his head, stifling a groan into his hands. “I didn’t even—fuck off, Louis.”

“I’ll get the NDA,” Harry speaks up before Louis can open his mouth, although he too sounds amused. Michael hates everyone.

“Thanks,” he mutters. “I—”

“ _Oi!”_ There’s a banging at his door before Ashton barges in. “We gotta go—oh for fuck’s sake, get _dressed._ We do not have time for this today, Michael. _”_

“That Ashton?” Louis asks before his voice rises. “ _You ‘right, Irwin?”_

Michael closes his eyes and prays for patience.

Ashton’s eyebrows rise. “Louis?” His gaze is penetrating. “Michael?”

“It’s a long, complicated, embarrassing story,” he mutters, rubbing a hand through his fading red hair.

“It’s not that bad, Michael,” Harry says but he’s laughing so Michael sticks his tongue out despite the fact that it won’t be seen.

“Fuck you too.”

“That’s me job, mate.”

“ _Louis.”_

“I’m leaving,” Michael announces. “I’ll talk to you losers later.” Amidst Louis’ vehement protests and Harry’s farewells, he hangs up. When Ashton opens his mouth, Michael cuts him off. “No. Later. Or quite possibly never.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ashton heads for the door. “Downstairs. Two minutes.”

Michael throws on whatever he can find and runs out the door, hoping that maybe, _maybe_ Jace’s resemblance to Luke had just been a wild figment of his desperate imagination and that things would look different in the light of a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and tell me if you hate it completely hhhhahhh or if you liked it! 
> 
> Thanks ^_^


	5. Panic! At The Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this, leaving kudos and comments. I really love you all so much and thank you!!! 
> 
> Special thanks to Lucy, Ravenclaw5sos and parader35 for the continued support, I really look forward to reading your comments every time! 
> 
> Here's to chapter 5 :)

The stunned silence in the foyer lasts for a solid minute. Michael counts. Eventually, Harry is the first to speak.

“Nice to meet you, Jace.”

Jace, understandably star struck, manages to close his mouth and shake the hand Harry offers. He flashes Michael a fleeting look filled with panic.

“Least you’re fitter than Luke,” is Louis’ opening statement.

“That’s a bit unfair don’t you think— _”_

Harry looks like he’s biting back a grin when the three of them swing to look at Michael and he trails off.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. They are all annoying and he doesn’t know why he puts up with any of them. His cheeks burn.

“Are you aware,” Louis says as they sit down in the living room, “that you could pass off as Luke Hemmings?”

Jace’s eyebrows rise, blinking a little, before an amused grin works its way across his mouth. “Only with sunglasses. Or so I’ve been told.”

“You’re a dick,” Michael says, leaning back and throwing an arm over his eyes. “I hate you.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t realise I looked like your unrequited love—oh I’m sorry, your best _friend,”_ Jace says. He winks. “Your life is a mess, my friend.”

Harry, grinning with those stupid dimples in his cheeks, hands Jace a sheaf of papers. “Read it. Every line.”

“Shit suddenly got very real,” Jace says but takes the bundle, flicking through. “Non-disclosure agreement?”

Louis makes a bored sound. “So you don’t go off tattling to the press.”  

Michael’s phone suddenly buzzes as Harry explains various clauses of the NDA and with a sudden dawning horror, Michael realises that he has no excuse to give.

 _LUKE US WORK_ lights up his phone.

With a grimace at a grinning Louis, he presses answer.

“Hey, Luke.”

The conversation around him dies as the name tumbles out of his mouth. Michael wants to throw something expensive and breakable at a wall. Maybe a crystal vase. Harry probably has a few lying around.

 _“Where are you?”_ Luke sounds harried, the noise in the background undulating with hundreds of voices. _“I’ve literally looked everywhere in the building.”_

“I’m…” Michael trails off, feeling a little sheepish at having sneaked off without telling them. “Um.”

An annoyed sigh comes down the line. _“If you tell me you fucking left, I’m going to fucking kill you.”_

“I won’t tell you then,” he says, avoiding catching any eyes.

 _“Michael—for fuck’s sake, did you forget that we have to meet that producer guy?”_ Luke is definitely edging on borderline angry.

“Shit,” Michael hisses, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I…fuck, okay, if you can stall for like, twenty, I swear I’ll be there.”

Harry twitches and when Michael glances at him, he nods and mouths, “I’ll call Jamie.”

Deflating in grateful relief, Michael nods.

Luke sighs heavily. “ _Where the fuck even are you?”_

It’s in that split second that Michael catches Jace’s eyes and they burn with humour as a little smirk curls into his cheek. The next words out of his mouth aren’t the words Michael had meant to say.

“With my boyfriend.”

There’s a vice around his windpipe and his pulse thunders in his ears as the last word leaves his mouth.

There’s a trio of sharp inhales around him as silence _rings_ through line, Luke so absolutely silent that Michael can hear the distant echo of music from the party. It sounds suspiciously like Enrique.

Jace is staring hard at Michael, the smirk growing into a full-blown grin as Louis silently chortles, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. Harry, although huffing a laugh, is shaking his head in a distinctly _I can’t even deal with your shit_ way.

Michael shrugs helplessly at the three of them and addresses Luke. “Still there?”

 _“Boyfriend?”_ Luke hisses, sounding like he’s two seconds away from exploding. _“Since when did you—for fuck’s sake, get your ass here and fucking explain.”_

The dial tone beeps long in his ear for too long as Michael sits, struck dumb at being cut off. “He hung up on me,” he says slowly, staring at his phone.

Louis’ laughter bursts free, the sound echoing from the corners of the room, deep, full-bellied and pained.

There’s a ping on Harry’s phone and with another shake of his head, he stands up. “Car’s here.”

Michael numbly gets to his feet, carding his fingers through his hair. “Why the fuck did I say _that_?”

Jace cackles, eyes glinting. “Can’t resist me, that’s why.”

“Fuck off.”

Louis, still giggling like the annoying shit he is, heads for the door. “Good luck with your boy, love. Keep us posted, yeah?”

Michael drags Jace to the door. “I will not.”

“Drama queen.” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Fuck you too,” he mutters.

Jace waves the NDA. “I’ll sign these, yeah?”

“You’d fucking better, Hemmo 2.0.” Louis leans in the doorway. “Or it’ll be me who’ll be after your arse.”

_“Hey.”_

Louis pats Harry’s arm. “In a purely professional way, love.”

Michael slams the car door with a scowl.

“That went well,” Jace says.

Michael throws him a dirty look and asks Jamie to take him to the godforsaken party his stupid band were at.

 

*

 

When Jamie pulls up a block away from the venue, Calum and Luke are waiting in the shadows, arms folded and looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"Man, don't they look like rays of sunshine," Jace mumbles from beside him.

Michael snorts despite himself and reaches for the door handle.

"How tinted are the car windows?" Jace asks suddenly, his fingers curling around Michael's wrist.

"Eh, if they're looking in, which they definitely are, they can see every—"

Jace doesn't let him finish, tugging hard on the back of his neck and pulling his mouth into a chaste kiss. Michael freezes, all the thoughts in his head coming to a screeching halt as Jace pulls away grinning.

"Have fun, rockstar," he murmurs.

Michael pauses, his hand resting on Jace's arm. As understanding dawns, a chuckle bubbles out of him. "You're a fucking menace, they're going to eat me alive."

He wrenches open the door and goes to step out, shaking his head. Jace's laughter drifts out behind him.

"Tomorrow night, yeah, Mike?" It's tinged with light teasing, like they had just shared a good joke. Michael supposes that they had.

Nickname. Nice touch.

Unable to stop the grin on his face, he just rolls his eyes. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, 2.0."

Michael can’t resist the nickname, glancing at Luke as he does so. God, they really _do_ look similar. He is beyond fucked.

Jace leans far enough forward that his eyes glint with mischief in the dim light before Michael thanks Jamie and shuts the door. The car pulls away from the curb. His heart gives a sullen lurch when he looks at Luke bathed in the light of the street lamps and he forces a cheerful grin.

"Hey guys."

"Boyfriend." Calum stares at him, face set in stone. "You have a boyfriend and you didn't say shit?"

"I just—"

"I told you," Luke cuts in. "I told you about Lea."

Michael can't stop the scoff that trips out. "Yeah, two weeks after you started banging her."

Whatever empathy had been in Luke's expression vanishes. "Let's just get inside." He stalks away, a sight to behold in all black and glinting silver rings, leaving Michael with a terrifically unamused Calum.

"Michael, what the _fuck_?"

A sigh leaks out of him.

As the two of them follow Luke, Michael shrugs. "He’s nice."

"Nice. He's nice. That's all you have to say about the guy you snuck off to make out with in the middle of a networking party?" Calum sounds incredulous, if not entirely disbelieving.

A little guilty about lying, he bites his lip. "Well...it’s new alright? And he's brilliant."

Calum mutters something that sounds vaguely like, _"Ashton's going to slice off my balls,"_ but Michael doesn't push it.

 

*

 

Ashton doesn't do more than throw Michael a disbelieving look before introducing them to the producer.

After having an almost hour-long conversation that somehow could lead them to writing with Brendan Urie— _Brendan Urie_ —Michael thinks he might be able to slip away again.

No such luck. 

Ashton grabs him by the elbow of his shirt before he can run and drags him, as politely as possibly given their present company, to the empty hallways leading from the function hall.

Michael doesn't protest because there really isn't any point once Ashton has said his mind to something.

When he's finally free to stand on his own, he shakes himself off and raises an expectant eyebrow at his band. His band who, rather unsurprisingly, do not look impressed. At all. And their expressions fall deeper when Michael's phone rings.

One look at the caller ID has him pressing answer with a, "Hold that thought," at his friends. Calum rolls his eyes rather impressively.

"Jace brought back the NDA," is the first thing Louis says. "Also mentioned that he snogged you in front of your one true love."

He doesn't sound disapproving, thank god. But Michael is more concerned because Louis actually sounds _amused_.

“It wasn’t _explicit,_ fuck you and your stupid, filthy-sounding British words,” Michael mutters, rubbing at his face. “It was…chaste. I felt like a nun.”

“You are far from a nun.” Louis’ raucous laughter tumbles down the line. “ _Chaste,_ though? What a word, young Clifford, what a word. Gotta say I’m proud of your expanding vocabulary. Now then, ‘bout the NDA—”

"He signed it?" He asks, jumping on the subject change. "That quick?"

"Apparently he realised just how desperate you are because your face looked like a lemon the moment you spotted Luke."

Michael resolutely doesn't look at the boy in question. "Fuck you I am not—"

"Desperate? You are a bit, babe." Louis snickers. "So did Lover Boy get a good look at the new boyfriend?"

"No, he didn't," Michael hisses. "I'm about to be questioned like a fucking murder suspect so maybe if you hang up, I can get back to that."

A delighted laugh bursts out of Louis. "Take it Calum and Ashton aren't impressed with the sudden appearance of a boy who's not one of them? _Oooh,_ and maybe Luke’s secretly hacked off ‘cos he wants your body to ‘imself. Like, maybe he wants to do sinful things to you all on his own, d’ya know what I mean?"

A blush bursts hot across Michael's face and he stamps down the urge to punch something. "Shut up."

"Your insults need work, love."

"You know what needs work?" Michael finally exclaims. "Your face.”

Louis cackles, infuriating and gleeful. "Much better. Although I’ll have you know that me boyfriend loves me face. Alright, alright, before you fookin’ explode, I'll let you go, yeah? Remember, the secret to a successful lie is a lack of details. Keep your answers short."

Michael deflates, clutching his phone too hard. "Yeah. Thanks, Louis. Tell Harry he owes me for dealing with your shit when I wanted him instead."

"That cuts deep, Clifford, I'm hurt." Louis chuckles. "Right, babe, talk later, yeah?"

"Bye." He hangs up with extreme reluctance despite his words to Louis and turns to his friends. "So. Who's gonna start?"

Calum steps forward but Ashton stops him. His eyes are shadowed and he sneaks a glance at Luke before turning to Michael.

_"Boyfriend?"_

Michael grins despite himself. "Yeah."

"Since when?"

“Few days.”

Calum’s expressions twists, harsh and bitter as if he’s been forced to drink vinegar. “And what do _Harry_ and _Louis_ have to do with this?”

“Nothing.” Michael shrugs, trying to keep his face in check. “Look. I just—can we not do this? I like him, okay,” it’s not a lie, he does like Jace, just in the most platonic way possible, “and I’d like to have something outside the band to concentrate on sometimes.” He levels a hard look at Ashton. “I don’t want to be hung up on one thing for the rest of my life.”

He feels only slightly guilty at pulling Ashton’s strings to keep going with this insane plan.

Something softens in Ashton’s eyes and his fingers pinch into Calum’s wrist. “Alright…fine, but we get to meet this guy.”

“Yeah,” Calum mutters, entirely displeased. “I need to get a feel of the guy who’s fucking my best friend.”

Michael rubs a hand down his face and elects not to respond to that. He turns to a silent Luke with an expectant look. “’Bout you? Got anything to add?”

“Nope, but you’re a dick and I’m still angry.” Luke heaves a sigh. “But I’ll introduce you to Lea when you introduce us to—what even is his name?”

“Jace, short for nothing.” Michael can’t help but laugh as he thinks about the car ride where Jace had rattled off all the basic information about himself. “He, uh, he’s a psychology major but he sorta models sometimes.”

And hadn’t that been an interesting conversation. Michael had never known that he needed to see Luke lounging on a pool floatie in tight black boxer-briefs, tanned and oiled, with the sun gleaming off the water droplets on his skin, until Jace had shown him a shoot he’d done for a friend. Because _goddamn,_ Michael really needs to see that. _Yesterday._

“You’re dating a _model?”_ Calum snorts. “And you mocked Ashton for a week about Bryana. The irony is killing me.”

“He’s a psychology major, arsehole.” Michael punches Calum in the arm. “And he’s hotter than all of you, so joke’s on you.”

The smirks that appear simultaneously on Calum and Ashton’s faces are smug and knowing, calling out his blatant lie. He rolls his eyes.

Luke is just grinning, because of course he’s still oblivious to the giant, raging heart eyes that Michael has been sending his way for years. “I look forward to meeting him then.”

Michael withers internally and manages a weak laugh.

_Yeah. So does he._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was alright haha I know it was a bit slow-ish and I hope chapter 6 will live up to expectation for the meeting between Jace and Luke ;) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> My tumblr is aneverendingreplay so come say hi! I love to talk to everyone ^_^


	6. A Poison Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before any of you read this; a warning. 
> 
> This is NOT the chapter 6 that I was going to write and it just tore out of me before I could stop it. Please don't kill me? Hhhhahhh 
> 
> A trigger warning for depression just in case. I'm not entirely sure but I will add this. 
> 
> Alright well! Onward.

It’s late, somewhere close to one a.m., and Michael can’t sleep.

The ceiling of the living room is shrouded in shadow, flickering with light as the blinds shift with the gentle rocking wind from the open window. So far, it’s the most interesting thing Michael can be bothered to do, to just stare at the ceiling and ignore the rising wave of darkness in the back of his mind. The voices are clamouring to be heard, twisting and shouting, and he’s desperately trying to hold on to the blankness that is slipping through his fingers.

His hands twitch on his stomach and he sits up suddenly, reaching for the abandoned notebook and pen on the coffee table.

Brain swirling, Michael sets pen to paper and writes just one line. One line that he knows will grow into a song that he’s been wanting to write for a while.

_Everybody’s got their demons, even wide awake or dreaming_

His heart is pounding, battering itself against his ribs with an intensity that makes his head spin as he stares at the words scrawled on the page, barely visible in the darkness. A sharp inhale tears through his throat as he sets the pen to the top of the page, tremors rocking through his hands as he writes _JET BLACK HEART_ in a messy line across the top.

“Mikey?”

The quiet voice startles him, the pen dropping out of his hand and rolling away into the darkness. A hand pressed to his sternum, Michael half-turns to the doorway.

Luke is nothing but a silhouette as he stands behind the couch and he slowly solidifies as he moves closer into the wide, semi-hunched shoulders and long legs and sleep-mussed, fluffy hair that Michael could identify with his eyes closed. Luke’s bare feet shuffle quietly on the carpet with a soft _swish swish._

Michael moves over without a sound, makes room on the other end of the couch for Luke. He can’t quite manage a smile with his heart still beating hard with adrenalin.

But when Luke sits on the couch, he doesn’t sit on the opposite end.

It’s a harsh flashback to London, their first time overseas together, when Luke drops down right beside him, shuffling until he’s curled into Michael’s side, his legs tucked under him. It’s like, in his haze of sleep, Luke’s forgotten how much bigger he is now as he leans on Michael. There’s a small snuffle, a quiet, _adorable_ sleepy sound muffled against Michael’s shoulder before Luke settles down.

The smile that he couldn’t force bursts to the surface unbidden, genuine and nostalgic, his heart aching heavy in his chest as he wraps an arm around the shoulders of the boy who had stolen his heart with nothing more than a bashful smile and a few songs.

“You okay?” Luke asks after a few quiet moments. His voice is a whisper, quiet and rough from sleep, and Michael lets out a sigh that deflates them both into the couch.

“I will be.”

A warm hand curls around his wrist and squeezes. “I missed this.”

It’s one of those confessions. Ones that only come out in pre-dawn hours, when the sky is dark and the world is silent, when it seems like nothing matters and yet everything matters, and Michael draws in a breath that he can’t keep silent.

The hand around his wrist tightens.

“Yeah,” He whispers. His arm flexes, drawing Luke into him. “Me too.”

Luke falls asleep like that, tucked into his side and breathing into his neck, and Michael feels the weight of the world settle on his shoulders.

He shifts, laying Luke on the opposite side, heart tearing open when a gentle whine passes out of Luke’s mouth before he curls in on himself, feet pressing into Michael’s thigh, and falls silent.

Another pen sits on the table and Michael finds his fingers curling around it before he can see it. There’s a crack in the curtain and a thin stream of light falls across his notebook. Michael swallows past his aching throat and flips it open.

_Now I’m holding on for dear life_

_~~Is there a way~~ _ _There’s no way that we could rewind_

_Maybe there’s nothing after midnight that could make you stay_

He stares at the words in the faint light, tracing them with his finger as he turns to look at Luke’s beautiful, sleeping face. He’s drooling a little, saliva catching the light as Michael shifts forward, and he falls forward, elbows on his knees.

The next breath he takes shudders through him and the palms of his hands dig into his eyes.

_Shit._


	7. Jack and Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! Chapter 7 is finally here hahaha 
> 
> I won't ramble on too much, but thanks to everybody for reading and all you wonderful people who commented, I love you for the encouragement and laughter and happiness you brought to me. 
> 
> I hope it lives up to expectation? It might be a bit dramatic...
> 
> Enjoy!

_“You should invite me over.”_

It’s been almost a week and Michael is in the middle of explaining what happened the night of the party when Jace interrupts. Choking on his words, Michael gapes at the grinning face of his fake boyfriend on the screen of his phone.

_“What?”_

With a snort, Jace folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair. His image shudders as his knee hits his desk, broken by a harsh swear. _“Invite me over, asshole.”_

“Do you want me to get roasted by my friends?” Michael gestures wildly at himself. “This is not the face of a man who wants to fucking _die_ before the age of thirty.”

Jace cackles. _“I’m awesome, Michael. Have some faith in your friends. They’re gonna love me.”_

Michael sincerely hopes so.

 

*

 

They are all in various states of dress around the kitchen island and making their sluggish way through bowls of soggy cereal when Michael calms his nervous heartbeat, takes a deep breath and makes his announcement.

“So, Jace is coming over.” He forces a casual air, waving his spoon as he speaks. “’Round lunch time.”

“Thought we were rehearsing today,” Calum mumbles around a mouthful. Milk dribbles out of the corners of his mouth and he rolls his eyes as snickers rise around him, wiping it away. Swallowing, he flips the finger at them. “Right? Like, Castaway is sounding shit.”

Luke grumbles. “You sound shit.”

“I wouldn’t if you’d just—”

“Children.” Ashton sighs, rubbing his eyes. His face is drawn, sleeplessness and exhaustion clear in the shadows sunken under his eyes. “We all sound shit. It doesn’t even matter. We’re going to forget everything in between album drop and touring anyway.”

Twin exclamations of protests burst out of Calum and Luke, and while Michael almost finds himself joining—excuse you, he was fucking on _point_ yesterday—before he remembers what he was talking about in the first place.

“ _Oi,_ shitheads, argue about dick sizes later.” That shuts them up and Michael rolls his eyes. “Now, my boyfriend,” he swallows around the word and does _not_ look at Luke despite the looks shot his way by his two other awful best friends, “is coming over so please behave like normal, non-deranged human beings.”

“ _Us?”_ Luke gasps, pausing with a hand over his heart and a horrified look on his face. “Us, _deranged?_ How dare you imply that we are anything but the absolute epitome of normal?”

Michael is not amused. He is not amused nor is he endeared by this ridiculous idiot he calls his best friend. He is not.

(He is. He really is. Fuck.)

It’s too early to deal with this. The clock ticks over to 10:15.

“Yeah, almighty normal one.” Michael rolls his eyes to stop himself from laughing. His cheeks twitch and Luke’s grin sharpens. Michael ignores him. “But, really though, can you?”

Luke drops the act and shrugs. “If he’s not a complete dick.”

“He did make you sneak out of the party,” Ashton muses.

“Just to make out,” Calum continues.

Michael raises his eyes to the ceiling and prays for strength. “ _I_ snuck out because _I_ wanted to see _him,_ shut up, it’s not his fault he’s hot and his mouth is addicting.”

Sometimes he wonders where he learnt to say shit like this, because wherever it was, it’s serving him well with this game of charades. He chuckles a little to himself, thinking of every single time that Calum had snorted and told him that Michael could never lie to him.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Calum mutters darkly.

A snort trips out of Michael. “I won’t let you near his mouth.”  

“You’ve been together for like, five minutes, how have you already kissed?” Luke asks. His spoon pings off the plastic bowl as he taps at it, looking thoughtful. “Aren’t there rules for this kind of thing?”

Michael grins, biting at his lip for effect, hoping that he pulls off the _cheeky-because-I’m-thinking-about-my-boyfriend’s-mouth_ look he’s going for. “Dunno ‘bout you, but well-placed neck kisses _do_ things for me, ya know, and anyway, boy has the body of fucking _Hercules_ and a smile that could light up galaxies.”

He’s not entirely sure whether he’s talking about Jace, lying, or talking about someone else entirely. And by the look on Calum’s face, he knows exactly who Michael’s pretending not to talk about.

“Poetic,” Ashton says, eyes glinting. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I haven’t yet,” Michael quips, because _this_ he is good at. “But I will.”

“Oh, Mike _, gross!”_ Calum groans, dropping his head. “It’s too early for that shit.”

Luke too is muttering obscenities under his breath, light pink dusting his cheeks as he stubbornly shoves cereal into his mouth.

Aw. Michael takes a moment to appreciate the colour on Luke.

“Y’all are weak AF,” he says and stands up with a dramatic flourish. “Get primped for my boyfriend. Can’t have you making bad impressions. We have an image to uphold.”

He flounces—there is really no other word for it—out of the kitchen with a bright smile as his heart slams in his chest with worry and anticipation.

 

*

 

When the doorbell chimes through the house, Michael is ready for it. He slings himself down the banister of the stairs with a cheerful, _“I’ll get it!”_

Except when he throws open the door, he isn’t ready for the sight in front of him and the door bounces off the wall and smashes into his side, sending him staggering into the other side of the doorframe.

_Holy fuck._

He grips the frame as he holds his throbbing hip and does nothing of short of _gape_ at the man standing on their front step.

“Holy _fuck,”_ he manages to get out, strangled and disbelieving, eyes raking up and down the gloriously tight, black jeans and the absolutely _delicious_ hug of the dark blue shirt around Jace’s muscled torso.

But his eyes fly back to the hair. Which is no longer blonde. Oh no. It’s fucking _black._ And with the Aviators sitting on his nose, Jace looks like the spitting image of Luke. But Luke with _black hair._

He can’t breathe. There is no oxygen in his lungs. He might actually pass out. There may be black bubbles popping at the edges of his vision.

“Someone call 911,” Michael says, jaw hanging open. “I have a fire they need to put out.”

“Wow, and you say I have bad lines.” Jace grins crookedly as he slides the sunglasses off and hooks them on his shirt, letting his hair flop over his forehead. Blue eyes gleam with satisfaction. “Hiya, Mikey.”

The grin that follows the gobsmacked expression onto Michael’s face is wide, half relieved and half shocked. “Fuck, and I thought you couldn’t possibly get hotter.”

“Dyed it just for you, rockstar.” Jace winks. “So, you gonna invite me in or are we gonna stand here all day?”

Laughing in disbelief, Michael steps to the side. “Yeah, come in.” A few seconds later, as he closes the door, he lets out another incredulous laugh. “ _Fuck.”_

“I take it you like the hair,” Jace teases, slinging an arm around Michael’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I fucking love the hair, you infuriating bastard.”

A cough follows Michael’s declaration and they turn to find his band standing around the edge of the stairs. The three of them look entirely disbelieving.

“I swear you were blonde,” is the first thing Calum blurts out.

Michael accidentally catches Ashton’s eyes and winces as the raised eyebrows rise _higher._ Right. So he’d noticed then.

“I was.” Jace nods and his drawl is so classically Californian, Michael has to smile. “But I’m doing a shoot for a friend tomorrow and he asked me to change it up a little, so here I am.”

“Michael said you were a model,” Luke says, letting the shock slide off his face as they move towards the living room. “What kind of modelling do you do?”

Jace catches Michael’s eyes and a blush roars into his cheeks with vengeance, forcing him to duck his head. He knows _exactly_ what Jace is implying.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

The laughter that flows out of Jace is bright and delighted, his tone secretive when he speaks. “Oh I _know._ But you loved them. _”_

“Fuck off, you know why.”

“I do.” Jace pinches Michael’s hip as they sit on the couch together. “I’ve got more.”

Michael feels the blood drain from his face and his heart trips over itself, and he can’t help swallowing. “Do I want to know.”

There’s a wicked glint in Jace’s blue eyes when he speaks. “Think David Beckham and that Calvin Klein spread he did a while back.”  

“You evil _fucker,”_ Michael breathes. Nanosecond flashes of Luke in skin tight boxer-briefs and glowering pouts into the camera lens flash through his head and he has to let out a harsh breath. His nails curl into the couch cushions. “I hate you.” 

Jace grins. “I do all kinds of modelling,” he says finally to the silent, dumbfounded three sitting around them. “Depends on what people want. But I’m mostly a Psych major at UCLA. And wow, I’ve been so rude.” He flashes a sweet, apologetic smile. “I’m Jace. It’s awesome to meet you guys.”

“I’m Calum, this Luke and Ashton,” Calum says and there’s a knowing curl to his lips when he sits back in his seat and looks at Michael.

Michael makes a face. “So now that you’ve all met, are we good? No intentions to kill or maim my boyfriend?”

Jace snorts. “Babe, you’ve threatened me with castration on more than one occasion.”

“I’m allowed to. _They,”_ Michael points at his interfering friends, flashing Jace an impressed look for thinking on his feet, “are not.”

Luke makes an amused sound. “I disagree—” He’s cut off by shrill sound of his phone. The sparkle that shines in his eyes as he answers ties Michael’s stomach into knots. “Hey, Lea!”

“Hey, Mikey.” Jace nudges his foot with the tip of his shoe with a soft look on his face. As if he could hear Michael’s heart dropping through the couch and crashing to the floor. “You wanted to show me that thing, remember?”

Avoiding Calum and Ashton’s eyes, Michael forces himself to look away from Luke happily chatting away with his girlfriend. He manages a smile and holds his hand out to Jace. “Yeah,” he sighs as Jace links their fingers together and squeezes. “C’mon.”

Something boils in his stomach as he leads Jace up the stairs to his room, frustration and anger and something sickeningly like jealousy churning through his insides and he hates the way it makes him feel reckless.

The door closes behind them and Michael makes a split-second decision.

“Kiss me.”

Jace stops in the middle of walking over to Michael’s bed, turning on his heel and staring at him. “What?”

An aggravated sigh hisses through his teeth as he tears a hand through his hair. “Kiss me.”

“Michael, you know this isn’t—”

“Fucking _kiss_ me, Jace!” Michael snaps, pacing across his room before he breaks something as anger bubbles to the surface. Luke’s shining eyes and bright grin swim in front of him.

Jace watches him, hands in his pockets and uncertainty plain on his face. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

Next thing Michael knows, he’s grabbing Jace and pulling him until they are nose to nose. Jace grips his waist to slow their momentum, to stop the two of them crashing to the floor.

“I don’t care, just… _please?”_

“Hey, c’mon…breathe, rockstar.” Jace’s voice is soothing as he rubs Michael’s back. “You shouldn’t let Luke get to you like this.”

Michael tears himself away despite the comforting action, yanking again at his hair and rubbing rough hands down his face. “I hate this. I can’t—I feel so _stupid_ around him sometimes, it’s—do you know what he did?” His breathing is shaky as he remembers that night. “He comes to me, half asleep and looking so fucking adorable, and fucking _cuddles_ into me and falls asleep. He fell asleep. _On me._ Jace, he hasn’t done that in—I wrote a song.”

His pulse is pounding in his neck, his heart thundering as he draws a wheezing breath.  

Jace draws him into a hug, letting Michael hide his face. “Breathe, Mike. Slow, yeah? Like that.”

Michael hates the weakness he can feel dragging in his bones as he deflates, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders as he tries to slow his breathing.

“So,” Jace says after a few quiet moments. “The new song. Any good?”

A watery, humourless laugh strangles him. “I don’t know.”

There’s a warm exhale against his ear as Jace chuckles. “Don’t suppose you want to play it for me?”

Michael pulls away with a grateful squeeze to Jace’s hip and hesitates, glancing at the guitar sitting on his bed. “The boys haven’t heard it yet…”

“That’s cool, then—”

“But,” Michael continues, toying with his bracelets. “I don’t know if I want them to.”

“What’s it called?”

Michael doesn’t answer, biting at his lip as he pulls out the sheaf of papers hidden inside his suitcase underneath two barely-worn pairs of blue jeans. He rifles through, letting out a shallow breath before he hands the lyric sheets to Jace.

 _“Jet Black Heart,”_ Jace murmurs and sits on the bed.

His face is unreadable as his eyes flick across the lyrics and the treacherous squirming in Michael’s stomach threatens to overwhelm him. Nausea teases along the jagged edges of his racing mind.

“Mike.”

When the whisper-soft word comes out, Michael can’t help the wince that shudders across his face.

“Mikey. Hey.” Jace reaches out, circling gentle fingers around his wrist and pulling him down next to him. “This is…this is amazing.”

The roiling waves of anxiety ebb away in a moment, replaced by relief. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” The fingers around his wrist slip down, sliding into the spaces between his own, gripping warm and offering comfort.

“Thank you,” Michael breathes out, squeezing Jace’s hand. “I just wanted something like this out there, you know?” He says a few moments later. “I wanted to show them that they’re not alone.”

“You’ll leave people in tears.” Jace’s chuckle is affectionate, thumb rubbing across Michael’s knuckles. He sighs. “You’re an incredible person, Michael Clifford.”

Michael leans into his shoulder. “Life would be easier if I was in love with you.”

The sigh that Jace releases is wound tight with emotion. “Life would be easier, Michael Clifford, if you were harder to love.” He laughs to lighten the mood. “Luke needs to sort out his shit.”

Chest aching, Michael squeezes Jace’s hand once again and rolls his eyes. “He’s straight.”

“No straight man looks at his best friend like that,” Jace mutters with a huff. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Stalker, much?” Michael ribs, ignoring the real meaning of the words.

“Shut up.” Jace shoves him lightly. “Anyway, he’s at least bi. I’m like, seventy-six percent sure that he had a thing for Ashton, way back when.”

“How do you even _know?”_

Jace snickers, a leer on his lips, “Louis sent me some links. For research purposes, of course, not to see how adorably fluffy you were at sixteen.”

“I was not _fluffy!”_ Michael scowls, pulling his hand out of Jace’s. “And seventy-six percent isn’t comforting, Mr Psychology Major.”

“I’m sorry, Clifford, you were extremely fluffy.” Jace shoves him until he’s sprawled back across his bed, almost crushing his guitar. “And I wasn’t aware I’d become an expert gay detector.”

“Your gaydar sucks,” Michael mutters, pulling himself back up and sliding a hand through his hair.

Jace snorts outright. “Yeah right, like yours is any better? He isn’t straight, ergo, your gaydar is _shit.”_

“Fine,” Michael sighs theatrically. _“Fine.”_

 _“OI!”_ There’s a banging on the door and Calum’s voice comes through. “If you two are done showing each other your _things,_ can we please have lunch?”

Jace laughs aloud and the fucker sounds suspiciously breathless. “We’re not fucking!”

Calum scoffs. “Why do you sound like you’ve been strangled?”

“Fuck off, Calum!” Michael groans. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

A harrumph comes through the door before footsteps fade away.

“You know,” Jace says with grin, “I’m not entirely sure he likes me yet.”

Michael grins back, feeling somewhat lighter as he pulls the two of them to their feet. “He probably thinks you’re a distraction.”

“Wow, so the best friend thinks I’m a bad influence.” Jace shakes his head as he follows Michael out the door. “I’m making great impressions.”

 

*

 

The smell of spaghetti wraps around them in a warm, tomato-ey caress as they walk into the kitchen.

“Spaghetti?” Michael throws a look at Ashton. “For lunch?”

There’s also a Caesar salad on the table that Michael resolutely ignores. He and salads are not friends. Because one does not simply make friends with salad. The only salad he will eat is a pasta salad.

“Luke almost cried,” the oldest snorts. “Blame him.”

 _“Hey!”_ Luke protests. “We’re not getting dinner till late tonight and I was craving pasta.”

“You are a _child,”_ Michael sighs as he nudges Jace into a seat and settles into one himself. “But, I’ve been wanting pasta lately too.”

Luke’s grin lights up the entire room. Michael tears his eyes away with a pointed cough and reaches for the bowl of spaghetti.

Jace’s thigh is warm against his. A small grin pulls at Michael’s mouth as he serves Jace and then himself. At least this whole fake boyfriend thing is giving him an excuse to be touchy and cuddly with someone.

“So.”

Calum sounds speculative. Michael immediately tenses because that is _never_ a good thing.

“You two don’t look like you’ve been making out.”

Michael chokes.

“We were just talking,” Jace says as he twirls the pasta around his fork. “About a song. Right, babe?”

“Yeah.” He throws Jace a dirty look. “We were.”

Luke’s cutlery clangs against his plate. “For that long?”

There is something in his voice that makes Michael look up. Luke isn’t looking at him, focussed on playing with his food.

The edge of a shoe snicks his ankle and Michael yelps, gaping at Ashton across the table. “What the fuck?”

Ashton shrugs. “Accident.”

Jace leans into his ear. “That was meant for Luke.” His breath his warm on Michael’s ear. “Maybe reconsider your conclusions.”

“Shut up,” Michael hisses.

“Which song?” Calum cuts in. “Jace, who do you like to listen to?”

Jace slides his fingers along Michael’s wrist as he pulls away and there’s a grin in his voice when he speaks. “Michael.”

“Oh fuck off, dick,” Michael retorts, heat flushing his cheeks.

“I’m not kidding, Mikey _,_ and I can’t wait to hear the new one.”

There’s a smug set to Jace’s shoulders, the nickname sliding out of his mouth, as he leans forward to stuff salad in his mouth. Michael wants to stab him in the back with a knife. Hail fucking Caesar.

Ashton raises his eyebrows. “You wrote a new song?”

“And you didn’t _tell_ me?” Calum exclaims. “You always tell me!”

“You told _him?”_ Luke’s tone is scathing and Michael’s eyebrows rise despite himself.

Jace scoffs. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“Alright!” Michael throws up his hands. “Chill the fuck out. So, I wrote a new song. What about it?”

“Are you gonna show us?” Calum asks, blinking wide, Bambi eyes at him from next to Ashton.

Michael can’t help glance at Luke before he catches Jace’s eyes. Jace squeezes his thigh under the table with an encouraging smile.

“Sure.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, and takes in a mouthful of spaghetti.

“When’d you write it?” Luke asks, his eyes focussed somewhere over Michael’s right shoulder before they flick to him and become questioning. “I haven’t seen you writing.”

Michael feels Jace’s eyes burning into his neck and he chews, trying to come up with an answer.

“Except…” Luke stops, long fingers tapping on the table as he tugs at his lip ring with his teeth. Michael curses every god he can think of. Jace’s grip on his thigh tightens almost imperceptibly. “Was it that night? Like, a couple nights ago?” Luke’s voice is quiet, tentative, as he looks up and catches Michael’s eyes, the blue of his irises so vivid that Michael breathes in sharply as they focus on him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, unable to stop himself. “After you fell asleep.”

“I saw you writing when I walked in.” There’s a catch in Luke’s voice as he plays with this knife, twisting it around in his hands.

Michael draws in air and it stings along his throat. “Yeah,” is all he can say.

“Hey, uh, maybe,” Jace sounds tentative as he speaks up, like he’s unsure if he should step in. “Maybe don’t push about the song?”

A twelve-foot steel wall falls across Luke’s eyes as they go hard and arctic. Michael sees it happen in real-time because Luke is looking right at him in that moment before his eyes flick to Jace. He says nothing but the sudden force field that expands around him threatens to knock all of them on their asses.

Michael squirms in his seat as the tension builds and he slides his hand over Jace’s on his knee, gripping tight.

“Mikey,” Jace says, strained. “Thanks for lunch but I should go.”

“Yeah,” he sighs and shoves his chair back. “C’mon.”

Ignoring the protests from Ashton, Michael leads Jace to the front door, throwing it open.

“I’m sorry, man,” Jace murmurs just for Michael’s ears as footsteps echo behind Michael. “About mentioning the song. I didn’t think…”

Michael shrugs, smiling wanly. “It’s fine. Would’ve told them soon anyway.”

Jace’s smile is unsure. “We okay?”

Michael steps forward, using his grip on Jace’s hand to pull him close, well aware of the three behind them. “We’re fine.”

“Good.” The smile that pulls at Jace’s mouth is brighter, relieved, as his fingers curl around Michael’s hips. “So, do I get a kiss or…?”

“Dunno.” A genuine grin spreads across his face as he slides his hands into Jace’s newly black hair. “Do you want one?”

A soft puff of laughter against his mouth. “Mikey, I’ll always want one.” And then he presses his lips to Michael’s cheek.

Michael huffs in mock-indignation. “I think you missed.”

The startled bark of laughter makes Michael’s grin tip into a leer at his fake boyfriend.

“You haven’t kissed me all day,” he continues, tugging at his lip, hoping that it came across as convincing petulance.

Jace stares at him with something akin to admiration before rolling his eyes. “You’ve been running away all fucking day, rockstar, what was I supposed to do?”

“Pin me to a wall?” Michael flutters his eyelashes.

The gap disappears between them and Michael can’t help the sound that escapes him as he sinks into his first proper kiss in a long, _long_ time. Mostly for show, but he’s also been celibate for practically a year. He’s _missed_ this.

Michael has his arms around Jace’s neck and his body pressed against Jace before he realises what’s happening. Jace pulls away with a twinkle in his eye.

“I take it you enjoyed that.” He hums, thumbs stroking Michael’s back. “I’m gonna go before Luke stabs me with that knife he’s holding. I’m sorry I got on his bad side, but for what it’s worth, he’s a dick.”

Michael chuckles, prying himself away. “Nah, he’s alright. But It’s okay. I’ll see you.”

Jace presses another kiss to his cheek. “You will. Bye, Mikey.”

Then the shades are on his face—Michael forces himself to not keel over at how much he suddenly looks like Luke once again—and he’s nodding at the three behind Michael. “Good to meet you guys. See ya later.”

With that, he’s disappearing down the front walkway and around the corner of the house.

Michael grins, shakes his head and closes the door, taking a moment to calm his churning heart and rolling stomach, before he turns around.

“He looks so much like Jack,” is the first thing Luke says. He looks dazed, grip slack and forgotten around the knife in his hand, as he blinks at Michael with wide, bright blue eyes like he’s just realised why Jace looks so familiar. “Did you ever have a thing for my brother?”

Twin strangled sounds come from Calum and Ashton, disguised behind poorly executed coughs. Michael himself chokes on the inhale.

“No,” he says weakly. “No, Luke, I never had a thing for your brother.”

Calum seemingly gives up and he looks like he’s crying as he sprints past them and bounds up the stairs. The sound of muffled screaming drifts down to them before the door to his room shuts with a bang.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna go see if he’s okay.” Ashton shuffles past, a frantic, pained look thrown at Michael—like he’s trying his level best to _not_ laugh—before he too runs and disappears up the stairs. A door opens and slams.

“Calum must be feeling lonely.” Luke says with a grin, previous awkwardness forgotten. “Since the three of us are dating.”

Michael manages a smirk even though his stomach is somewhere below his feet. “Ashton can keep him company.”

They’re both silent for a few moments and Michael is just working up the courage to say something to fill the silence when Luke makes a considering sound that stops him in his tracks.

He’s only slightly glad.

Very slightly.

“So…he calls you _Mikey.”_

Michael looks up in surprise, studying Luke’s casual expression before shrugging. “Mostly, I suppose. Although he’s annoyingly fond of calling me rockstar.”

“You must hate that,” Luke deadpans and Michael spares him a snort. “But no, it’s just.” Luke fiddles with the ring on his thumb. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Curious, Michael blocks the way into the kitchen as Luke makes to escape. “Spill, Hemmings.”

“Shut up.”

There is an actual _blush_ on Luke’s cheeks, rosy and sharp over his cheekbones, and Michael bemoans Luke’s resolute straightness and ignores Jace’s frustrated _he’s not straight_ that echoes in his head.

“Luke?”

He isn’t looking at Michael, eyes somewhere on the floorboards, looking shiftier than the time he had broken Ashton’s headphones and pretended nothing had happened, that he had definitely not been involved in any way.

“Let me go.”

The curiosity builds until it burns and Michael refuses. “No. Tell me or I’ll keep you here forever.” Not that he’d complain about that.

Luke huffs before deflating and mumbling under his breath.

“What?”

A heavy sigh later, Luke finally looks up and fixes Michael with sharp blue eyes that gleam with annoyance. “I’m the only one who used to call you that.”

Stunned, Michael unthinkingly relaxes his posture, blinking wide at Luke and hoping for an explanation.

Luke just runs away.

Michael rubs at his suddenly aching temples and finds support against the wall, wondering what the bloody hell just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...is it okay? Did I take it too far? 
> 
> Leave a reply in the comments ahaha I love them so much and they motivate me so much! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :D


	8. Stunned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys, this chapter was going to be twice as long as it is but Michael wasn't cooperating and Luke was refusing to do what I wanted so...here we are...
> 
> BUT, I hope you enjoy the chapter ;)

“I didn’t want to see his tongue down your throat!”

Michael gapes at Luke, completely bewildered.

His ear twitches as Jace snorts against it, his fingers tightening around Michael’s hip. “’Course he didn’t,” he mumbles, sounding amused.

Michael pinches Jace’s arm.

He’s partly uncomfortable because dear _God,_ Luke had seen him pinned to the couch and slowly being taken apart, but he’s partly glad that Luke had walked in when he had because Michael knows it would have spiralled very quickly from there and he would come in his pants right there on the couch like a thirteen-year-old. Sleeping with Jace is also probably _not_ the best idea in the world.

Well, whatever arousal he’d felt had leaped out of the window and run into traffic, his dick soft in the face of confrontation, as bizarre as it was.

“You couldn’t have been doing that in your own room?” Luke blusters, face turning a splotchy red as he stands in the doorway of the living room. “ _Anyone_ could’ve walked in, Michael!”

“Luke,” Michael says slowly, wondering when he’d entered some sort of alternate dimension in which Luke had lost his mind. “This is _our_ house, you know that, right? Only we have keys.”

That seems to stump Luke for a moment but he shakes his head, hair flopping wildly. “That’s…that’s irrelevant! It’s not—you shouldn’t have been humping each other in the fucking _living room!”_

 

**_*rewind half an hour*_ **

_“I’m bored,” Jace whines, poking Michael with his socked foot. “This is boring.”_

_The boys had gone out and Michael had taken the opportunity to invite Jace over because he felt lazy and he still wasn’t sure how to keep his cool around Luke. Not after the possible jealousy incident. Neither of them had brought it up but it was stretching between them like elastic cheese every time they were in a room._

_Michael sighs, shoving at Jace’s toes. “Stop putting your smelly feet all over me.” He turns resolutely to the screen where someone or rather is dying on Game of Thrones._

_Jace’s sigh is dramatic and frustrated but he says nothing._

_The silence lasts barely thirty seconds before Jace pokes Michael again. “Wanna make out?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice as he shuffles on the couch and the grin on his face tips into a leer when Michael looks over, an eyebrow rising._

_He studies the look on Jace’s face and grins. What a liar._

_“Sure,” he says and laughs loudly when Jace blanches, jaw dropping a little. “Gotcha.”_

_Jace scowls. “You can’t make empty promises like that, Clifford.” He moves, crawling across the space between them and all Michael can do is watch with an amused half-smile. “Either you follow through or shut up.”_

_Michael watches the flutter of his eyelashes, the gleam of his not-quite-the-right-blue eyes, the twist of his mouth, the bitten-pink bottom lip. His fingers are curling around Jace’s shoulder and yanking him onto his lap before he really makes a conscious decision. “Shut up and kiss me, arsehole.”_

_The laugh on Jace’s lips melts into Michael’s mouth and he can’t help the groan that rumbles through him. Jace hums, settling into his lap and pulling at Michael’s lip with his teeth._

_The soft push and pull of their mouths feels like sinking back into a bed, comfortable and warm and pushing through his bones like fantastic massage, and Michael sucks in a harsh breath as their mouths part for a bare moment, his heart starting to pound in his chest._

_“You alright, rockstar?” Jace murmurs, pushing his hands along Michael’s neck and up into his hair, grinning against his mouth when he moans on a breath out._

_“Yeah,” Michael breathes, heat pooling in his stomach. “This is nice and all, really, but, kiss me like you fucking mean it.”_

_A low growl tears out of Jace’s throat and Michael finds himself flat on his back, Jace hovering above him with a wild heat in his eyes and a grin bright on his lips. Michael grins right back, pushing at his elbows until Jace collapses with an_ oof _, pressed hot and hard against every bit of Michael._

_Jace kisses him with a fierce edge, almost defiant, like the world is against them and he won’t surrender because fuck the world. Michael sinks into the couch under him, writhing as Jace drags his palms down his sides and under his shirt, touch burning, and Michael bucks as his hips twist hard, pressing them together._

_Their tongues are pushing together and Michael feels something settle inside him at the same time that his body is flaring to life._

_He’s hard, he’s so hard that he thinks he might burst. God. Fuck, he hasn’t had this in so long and he just—blood rushes through him and roars past his ears and all Michael wants is for Jace to fuck him until he forgets everything, until he’s a mess, until he’s begging._

_“Hurry up,” He gasps, pulling away with a filthy, slick sound and a moan rips out of his throat as Jace sucks kisses down his throat, teeth sinking in over his pulse. “Fuck. Jace.”_

_“Oh, I like that,” Jace murmurs, hot and wet, against Michael’s pounding pulse. His hands move, teasing and slow, making Michael thrash, panting for friction against his dick, and he swears into Jace’s ear when his wrists are suddenly pinned over his head, hard, against the arm rest._

_“Fuck.” He pants, trying in vain to move, but Jace moves up, grinning, and presses his mouth to Michael, tongue delving in and stroking along his own, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Shit.”_

_Jace groans as Michael manages to press their erections together again, gasping curses against his mouth. “Mich—”_

_He sucks hard on Jace’s tongue, his brain cloudy with need, burning under Jace’s rolling body. “Come on, please, I—”_

_“Mike,” Jace rasps right into his ear, grinding down._

_His fingers are tight around Michael’s wrists and Michael can feel his pulse thundering against Jace’s fingers, and God, he needs this, he needs to, he’s going to—_

_“OH MY GOD!!!”_

_The voice echoes around them, reverberating from every corner of the room._

_Jace flies off him, rumpled and lips slick with Michael’s spit, his dick obvious as it strains against his jeans. Michael gasps for air, so close to the edge that he has to breath, grasping gulps of air into his lungs for a few solid seconds before he can barely gather the scattered pieces of his brain._

_“Michael, what the fuck?!”_

_He groans, pulling himself up, his wrists twinging with the ghost of Jace’s fingers, and as he looks up, his heart stops in his chest when he sees Luke standing frozen in the living room doorway, hands clenched by his sides._

_“Uh,” he says and his voice comes out hoarse and almost gone. He flushes, clearing his throat. “Hey.”_

_“What the hell are you doing?” Luke demands and Michael blinks, taken aback, because it’s really, extremely obvious what was going on._

_Jace drifts back to Michael’s side, hand slipping onto his hip and squeezing. Luke’s expression darkens as his eyes flick between them._

_“Would’ve thought that was obvious.” Michael shifts into the grip and looking steadily at Luke despite the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him._

 

Jace is rigid at his side, his fingers bruising on his hip and Michael leans in to him a little, just to tell him to calm down. That it’s _fine._

It’s not fine. He sees Luke’s eyes glitter an arctic blue as they narrow at the small movement.  

“I didn’t know you’d be home so soon,” Michael says to Luke, shifting his weight, his heart thundering inside the cage of his too-tight ribs. “We just…”

Air hisses through Jace’s teeth and he draws himself up to his full height, only marginally taller than Luke, tensing against Michael. “Bro, you have no right to tell Michael what he should be doing with his own boyfriend in his own fucking house.”

Luke’s eyes glitter, glaciers under winter sunlight. “You were humping on _our_ couch. _Bro.”_

“You weren’t even in the fucking house!” Jace exclaims in a rush of breath, the words bursting out of him as weeks of aggravation finally catch up to him. “What is your _problem_ with me?”

“My problem,” Luke says, voice hard and biting, as he stabs a finger at Jace. “is you tearing this band apart and distracting Michael when he has a fucking _job_ to do. We’re not in this house for a fucking laugh, we’re here to make a fucking album so why don’t you leave Michael to do what he has to be doing instead of fooling around with _you._ ”

Michael flinches hard as the words slap him across the face and Jace all but spits in Luke’s direction, using his grip on Michael to pull him even closer.

“You’re a fucking _asshole,_ Luke.”

Luke stalks out without responding, his shoes still on and his jacket flapping behind him. The heavy, deliberate thud of his footsteps on the stairs echoes through the house and slashes through Michael like a chainsaw.

“I can’t _stand_ him,” Jace groans. He pulls away from Michael and tears at his hair. “How the fuck do you even put up with his entitled, selfish ass? And _distracting_ you? Who the fuck does he think I am, Yoko Ono?”

Michael sinks onto the couch, head spinning, as exhaustion suddenly barrels into him.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Mikey.” Jace sighs, sitting down beside him. “I shouldn’t—”

“No,” Michael grits out, unable to help the anger that simmers in his stomach as Luke’s words ricochet in his head. “He’s being a dick and for no good reason.”

Jace huffs a hard laugh. “No kidding.”

When the front door opens for a second time, Michael can’t help but stiffen again. Seeing Ashton and Calum walk in, laughing together, sets his teeth grinding even though he knows they had nothing to do with Luke having a gigantic stick up his arse.

“Couldn’t have kept Luke with you for another ten minutes, could you?” He calls, bitterness sharp and firm in his tone.  

“Mike,” Jace says reproachfully.

Michael doesn’t listen and the careful glance between Calum and Ashton stokes the fire in his belly. He snarls. “No. Fuck him, okay? _Fuck_ _Luke_.”

“What happened?” Calum pads further into the living room, shrugging off his plaid over-shirt as he comes in with Ashton on his heels. “Oh, hey Jace.”

Jace presses his lips together and gives a stiff wave.

Ashton raises an eyebrow. “Now I’m definitely curious. You never stop talking.”

“Luke Hemmings,” Jace offers in response, “is an absolute peach of a human being. I’ve never seen anyone so selfless and lovely. Mother Teresa should weep in joy.”

The words are dry and harsh, dripping with ruthless mockery and delivered with a scathing grin. Calum and Ashton stare at him with surprise clear on their faces.

“Jay.” Michael deflates, as he watches him grab his keys from the coffee table. “You don’t have to go—”

“I know.” Jace squeezes his hip and presses a kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth. Stepping away with an apologetic smile, he shrugs. “But I need to blow off some steam before I go up there and punch the living daylights of him. I’ll see you later, Mikey.”

Michael nods, staring at the floor until he hears the front door open and shut a little harder than normal.

“Alright, start talking,” Ashton says. “What the fuck happened?”

“Luke walked in on us,” he says, just as frank, crossing his arms. “Just making out. Goes off, accusing Jace about stupid shit like tearing the band apart and distracting me when I have _‘a job to do.’”_

Calum sucks in a breath. “Jeez…” He glances towards the stairs. “He up there?”

Michael nods.

“Alright.” Ashton sighs, rubbing his forehead. He pauses for a moment, closing his eyes before looking back towards the stairs. “I’ll deal with him.”

Calum smiles at the eldest, thumping his back as he walks past muttering under his breath. “Thanks. And I,” he says, turning back to Michael who fidgets under his gaze, “will deal with this one.”

Michael just rolls his eyes and tosses him a controller, hoping that Luke gets over himself and apologises.

 

*

 

The laughter is odd, pitched higher and curling through the house unlike the laughs that Michael knows better than his own; the endless stream of Calum’s near-silent laughter, the uncontrolled giggles and loud belly laughs from Ashton, and most notably Luke’s, which lands in mouse-territory with his high, adorable squeaks amidst reeling laughter.

But this. This sound is none of those and Michael stops in his tracks, guitar abandoned beside him on the bed and pen frozen in the middle of a key change he’s attempting to write, listening.

It’s when the sound of Luke’s voice drifts up to him, intertwined with the strange giggles, that comprehension dawns on him.

Oh.

The sudden, lurching reminder of reality batters his walls and suddenly Michael can’t breathe, only hope that something would be left standing inside him after all of this was over. It hurts worse to realise that Luke still hadn’t apologised or talked to him in any way since yesterday.

He clears his suddenly swollen throat, jaw clenching as he forces his eyes from the door back to his notebook, gaze unclear, the lines and notes blurring together like ink poured into water.

“Michael?”

Startled at the sudden voice, he jolts and the pen drags across the page in a jagged scribble, tearing into the paper before Michael can stop it.

Calum is watching with a raised eyebrow. “Did you figure it out?”

Michael blinks at him, mind completely blank, the sound of the clock ticking deafening in his ears. He watches as the questioning look turn into a frown, Calum’s head tipping to the side.

“What’s wrong?”

Another round of the laughter filters through the door, this time punctuated by Luke’s chortling voice as he recounts something prone to be very stupid and entirely _unfunny,_ and Michael’s heart climbs into his throat. His pulse thumps ragged.

He hates the dawning realisation in Calum’s eyes and the subsequent sympathy that bleeds into the downward twist of his mouth.

“I, uh.” Michael has to clear his throat again, his voice coming out strained and hoarse, weak in the light of the transition he tries to make. “I’ve almost got it but we’ll have to try it o—”

“Mike.”

He trails off into silence as Calum’s hand falls to his knee, a warm press of comfort. To his absolute horror, Michael feels his eyes sting.

“It’s okay, bro,” Calum says and his voice is gentle. “I would’ve told you if I’d known she’d be here today.”

“I don’t…” Michael tries to breathe silently but it scrapes along his throat, hitching. “I have a boyfriend.”

The smile that pulls at Calum’s lips is small and knowing, and he huffs a quiet laugh. “I know, but you don’t get over a first love in a month, Mikey, especially when that first love is beside you every day. Even more so when you’ve loved them for years.”

A strangled sound is all Michael can make and it comes out as a barely-there laugh. He catches Calum’s warm eyes briefly before dropping his gaze to the sheets of his bed. “You sound almost _wise,_ Yoda.”

“One of us has to be,” is all Calum says and he squeezes Michael’s knee before sitting back, his other hand tapping along the body of the old acoustic guitar on his lap.

“I don’t know how to stop loving him.” The words tumble out in a helpless confession and his breathing becomes shallow, heart thumping slow and _hard_ against his ribs, dizzying. It almost feels like dying.

Brown eyes gleam with the light pouring in from the window and Calum smiles like he is in pain.

The stinging in his eyes heightens until he can feel the unshed tears lining his eyes, blurring his vision until Calum’s heartbroken face swims in front of him. “ _God._ I’m sorry, I just…I’m really messed up, Cal. I’m so fucking messed up.”

“Never apologise to me,” Calum says, voice scratchy and rough. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Never, you hear me, Michael? Never for loving him as much as you do. And I know it’s not just this whole thing but…I hate seeing you like this, okay? I just,” he tears a hand through his hair, “I’m your best friend, Michael, and I feel so _fucking_ useless because I can’t _do_ anything about any of this.”

The tears tumble down his cheeks as he sniffs. “Fuck.” He swipes at them, slathering them across his face in streaks. “You’re making me _cry,_ you shit,” he mutters with a watery laugh, but he uses all the strength left in him to get up, move to the other side of the bed and sit down beside Calum. “You are a much better friend than I deserve.”

Calum’s arm is tight around him as he pulls Michael in for a crushing hug and his own voice is shaky as he exhales into Michael’s hair. “Shut the fuck up, you self-deprecating idiot.”

Michael sinks into him, face pressed into the hard muscle Calum’s shoulder and arms tight around Calum’s waist. Relief settles in his stomach. “I’m sorry I—”

“What did I say about apologising,” Calum says, voice muffled. “Stop. And please stop crying or I’m gonna cry.”

Michael squeezes him once more and pulls back with a tiny smile, brushing away the last of his tears. “I know I’m a shit most of the time but I love you.” 

“I hate you,” Calum mumbles as he too wipes his eyes. “But I love you too, Mike. I’ll always be here, okay? You don’t—you don’t have to go through this alone. Not like you try to all the time. Not like you have.”

“Yeah.” Michael breathes out heavily, a rush of air that leaves him deflated and curled in on himself.

Cathartic. It’s the only word in Michael’s head in that moment. That is what this is. He feels drained and exhausted but indescribably light.

The silence that lingers in the wake of their mutual tears is calm as they sit pressed together, shoulder to knee, the most comfortable the two of them have been together since the whole mess started.

“Hey,” Michael says quietly. “Do you wanna hear the song?”

It’s like the sun breaking through clouds as Calum’s eyes light up and an excited grin bursts across his face. “Are you fucking for real?”

Michael _laughs,_ loud and unrestrained. _Happy_ in this moment with his best friend. “Yeah. I’m for real.”

 

*

 

“Michael is a fucking song-writing _genius.”_

Calum’s declaration rings around the kitchen, loud and uninhibited with the praise saturating it, and Michael hides a grin behind his phone.

He is also inordinately glad Luke had taken _her_ and gone off somewhere, and therefore had been nowhere to be seen when Calum had dragged Michael downstairs.

Ashton hums around the lip of his mug, inhaling the coffee like it would keep him alive. He yells when Calum whacks him across the back with a tea towel, spluttering as coffee splashes down his t-shirt.

“For fuck’s _sake,_ Calum!” Ashton groans, yanking the cloth from Calum’s hand and pressing it to his chest.

Michael tries his best to hide his amusement but he catches Calum’s eyes and it’s over. Ashton glares.

“If you two don’t shut the fuck up…” He threatens, pointing a finger at them.

Calum chuckles. “Sorry, Ash.”

Ashton rolls his eyes and seems to accept that that was the best he would get. “Anyway, what’s this about Michael being a genius?”

Michael grins. “Calum is going to give me his firstborn.”

“I’ll give you all my kids if you keep writing like _this._ You fucking have to hear Jet Black Heart, Ash.” Calum clicks his fingers as he waves his hands. “We’re gonna make the entire planet flood with tears. Freaking Noah’s Ark 2.0. It’s gonna be fucking beautiful!”

“Seems a little dramatic,” Ashton mutters as he catches Michael’s eyes and his lips quirk when Michael flashes him a grin. “Well? Do I get to hear it?”

He shrugs. “Now?”

Ashton claps his hands before thumping Calum on the back so hard the younger boy hacks out a cough. “Right after Calum here makes me another coffee.”

 

*

 

The three of them are sitting in the studio at the back of the house, the silence around them building with a tension that crawls along Michael’s skin like thousands of caterpillars.

“Not to interrupt this…silence,” Michael blurts out eventually, “but, can you say something?”

Calum stays silent, eyes on Ashton.

The eldest is sitting on the small couch, elbows on his knees and his fingers clasped in a triangle, resting on his lips. After seventeen more excruciating seconds—Michael tips his head to the side and counts—Ashton releases a puff of air and sits back, raking his fingers through his growing fringe.

“It needs to be single.”

Michael freezes. “What?” He breathes, not daring to look away from the blinking lights of the soundboard beside him.

“It needs to be a single.” Ashton huffs a shell-shocked laugh. “We’ll have this instead of Safety Pin, maybe? Hell, Michael, you don’t write shit for almost four months and we have a month till album release and now you come out with—how the fuck do you do this?”

“Uh…” He gapes at Ashton, turning towards him on the spinning chair. “Luke?” He tries, waving a hand weakly.

The laugh that bursts out of Ashton sounds like it’s been punched out of him; short, amazed and disbelieving. “It’s about _Luke?”_ He makes a strangled sound. “Michael—”

“Not entirely but it’s okay!” He says quickly, because the last thing he needs is for this to become a _Thing._ “It’s not a thing! It’s fine. _I’m_ fine. Everything is fine.”

Calum snorts but his eyes are gentle. “And yet, here you are, in love with Luke, dating Luke’s estranged twin, and writing songs about hurricanes under your heart.”

Michael’s throat clicks, eyes going wide at the word choice. “Estranged…twin?” He squeaks.

The roll of eyes he gets in return is spectacular and if Michael wasn’t horrified that Calum had figured it out, he would have been impressed.

“Bitch, please. You introduce me to a tall-ass motherfucker in skinny jeans and dyed black hair, knowing full well he was fucking _blonde_ a week ago and expect me to _not_ realise? The only thing that fucker is missing is a lip ring. His face is carbon-copy of Luke’s.”  

“He’s even got the blue eyes,” Ashton chuckles, and reaches forward to punch Michael’s shoulder. “You have a serious type. That type being Luke.”

Blood rushes to his cheeks and Michael ducks his head to hide the blush, biting at his lip. “Shut up.”

“Anyway,” Ashton sighs, “let’s talk about your love life later. We need to get this song finished.”

Michael deflates in relief. No way does he want to be quizzed about Jace because he doesn’t want to be badgered into giving away the details.

“Did you mean it?” He asks as Ashton reaches for the music sheets. “About it being a single?”

“Hell fucking yeah, Mike.” Ashton beams and it’s like liquid sunshine is pouring out of his powers. Michael almost shades his eyes. “You’re gonna help a lot of people with this, you know?”

He smiles, pulling at his lip. “Yeah…I hope so.”

“ _Guys?”_

The sound of the hallway door opening and closing startles them all, Luke’s voice echoing down to them before he appears in the doorway.

Michael breathes, in and out, to stop the fight-or-flight response that kicks in.

“I didn’t know we were writing today,” Luke trails off, tugging at his lip ring with his teeth as he looks around at the three of them. “What…”

Michael tramples down the guilt that crawls into his chest as Luke watches them with wide blue eyes and feels even more guilty when he wishes that Luke had stayed out longer. They still hadn’t made up after the argument surrounding Jace, taking turns ignoring each other and on Luke’s part, lashing out at the smallest things Michael does. Michael, in particular, has gotten very good at running the fuck away.

“It’s—not finished yet,” Michael says on a breath, sudden panic gripping him with the thought that Luke would actually have to _sing_ these lyrics soon. He grabs the sheets out of Ashton’s hands, off the table and from Calum’s lap. “I don’t think—it’s not done yet.”

He swallows, flashing a helpless face at Ashton before he shoulders past Luke and flees.  

 

*

 

Michael refuses to acknowledge the smeared, drying tear tracks on his face as the door in front of him opens and Louis appears.

“Michael Clifford!” He starts cheerfully, before his eyes widen fractionally as he takes in Michael’s face under the porch lights. Concern bleeds into his expression when Michael manages a weak smile and he’s suddenly grabbing his arm and pulling him into the house while yelling over his shoulder, door kicked shut. “ _Oi, Styles! Get your arse down here. Now!”_

Michael goes willingly, too exhausted and clutching hard to his rapidly fading apathy to put up a fight.

There is a clatter on the second floor and Harry’s deep voice echoes down. _“Ten minutes, Lou!”_

Louis deposits Michael on the couch with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders and a, “Sit tight, babe.” Only after Michael nods does he move, heading to the kitchen and shouting at Harry. “ _Don’t have ten minutes, Styles, get the fuck down here!”_

Apparently, Harry could read further into Louis’ tone than Michael because there is a sudden thundering of footsteps on the wooden stairs and a breathless voice saying, “What? What’s the matter?” before Harry himself tumbles into the room, hair in a messy bun and dressed in old, comfy clothes.

He spots Michael immediately and Michael lifts a hand, unable to find it in himself to smile again. A frown creases Harry’s beautiful face, chasing away the grin that had been there seconds previously. “Have you been crying, Michael?”

Fatefully, a hiccup escapes Michael’s throat and he releases a shaky sigh which seems to be answer enough.

Harry perches on the edge of the glass coffee table, the frown on his face deepening. “What’s wrong?”

“Knocked on the door, looking like someone’d killed his cat.” Louis comes back in with a steaming cup in his hands before Michael can answer and places it in Michael’s hand. “Drink up, lad. You’ll feel better.”

“Don’t like tea,” Michael mumbles, nose blocked and throat thick from the earlier tears, a smile leaking out when Louis huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Barbarians,” the man mutters. “Look, Clifford. Drink the fucking tea. It’s good for you.”

Michael takes a meek sip of the tea, grimacing at the heat, but feeling it warming him up as he swallows. The warmth settles in his stomach. 

 _“Lou.”_ Harry pokes his boyfriend hard in the side. “You don’t yell at people who’ve been crying.”

Louis once again just rolls his eyes. But he sits down next to Harry, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees, grey-blue eyes glinting with concern. “So. Tell Ole Uncle Lou all about it, then.”

Michael takes another sip of the tea, earning an approving grin from Louis, before he sets it down on the table. “I freaked out,” he says alongside a slow breath out. A humourless laugh punches out of him. “He wanted to see the song and I just…ran.”

“At the risk of sounding patronising,” Louis says, “I’m gonna remind you that we have no fookin’ clue who you’re on about, love.”

Harry nods along. “Gonna have to give us bit of context before we pull out the tanks and drones to defend your honour.”

Michael smiles at that, small and amused, before he sighs. “I wrote a song. Mostly about Luke,” he clarifies with a grimace. “And I showed it to Cal and Ash while Luke was…while Luke was out with his girlfriend.” The word is bitter on his tongue and he ignores the glance that Louis and Harry share. “But he came back early and he—I panicked. He wanted to see what we were working on and I grabbed everything and ran.”

“Ooh boy,” Louis says.

Harry reaches forward to squeeze Michael’s knee. “Are you feeling better?”

“Of course he isn’t, Hazza, lad’s just been crying!”

“Ignore ‘im,” Harry says and Michael cracks a smile at Louis’ huff of indignation. “Normally, you feel a bit better after crying it out. Do you?”

Michael shrugs, listening to the steady _thump thump thump_ of his heart. “Calmer. Less like I’m drowning.”

Louis comes to sit beside him, his face wiped clean of anything but genuine sympathy, and pats his arm. “D’ya need a bit of a breather?”

“Yeah, but I won’t get much of one when I get back to the house.” Michael rubs his eyes. “They’ll be worried ‘bout me just disappearing. I didn’t actually tell anyone I was leaving.”

Louis hums, considering, before he suddenly claps his hands and gets to his feet. “Right then. Gimme ya phone.”

Harry flashes a bright grin, like he has abruptly realised what Louis is up to, and he hooks an arm over Michael’s shoulders. “Go on, give it to him and come with me to the kitchen.”

Confused, Michael does as he is asked and follows Harry into the kitchen. “What’s hap—holy shit.” He gapes at the massive space. “Do you even use this place?”

Beautiful wooden cupboards and gleaming off-white marble bench tops circle the room, a massive island counter in the centre with a deep-set sink on one side and a bowl of fruit on the other. Wooden beams race across the low ceiling and the floor is tiled in a way that reminds Michael of an old farmhouse. Actually, the whole kitchen has a vintage farmhouse feel, if the farmhouse was vintage in a way that was worth a billion dollars. Is that a—

Harry chuckles, interrupting his thoughts, and pulls chicken out of the freezer of a huge refrigerator. “Everyday we’re here, yeah.”

“That’s incredible,” Michael says, awed, wishing just a little that he could cook like Harry. He gapes a little as he crosses the room, eyes widening as his fingers come to rest on the glass of a built-in _aquarium._ “Holy fuck, you have a fucking _fish tank.”_

Harry throws him a fond smile when Michael stares at him incredulously. “Fish are cute.”

Michael blinks back at the small fish swimming amongst the colourful coral and aquatic plants for a few long moments. “Fish are cute,” he repeats in disbelief. Shaking himself, Michael turns back around and leans on the counter. “You cook in here every day?”

“Yeah, it’s nice when it’s just the two of us.”

“That’s really adorable and so domestic.”

“I’m a kept man, Michael Clifford,” Harry throws over his shoulder as he bends down to grab vegetables from the bottom drawer of the fridge.

“Alright!” Louis calls as he walks in. “All set, Hazza.” He slides Michael’s phone across the counter. “Told Ashton you won’t be home for dinner, yeah, so they won’t worry.”

While that would raise a shitload of questions from Ashton, it’s then that Michael realises what’s going on and a rock tumbles off his shoulders, gratitude and relief aching in his chest. “You guys are fucking incredible. Even if you have a fish tank in your kitchen.”

Louis snorts. “Just realising that, are ya?” He teases, wordlessly accepting the capsicums and leeks from Harry before grabbing a chopping board. “Bit late. The rest of the world realised years ago.”

But Michael catches the acknowledging smile beneath the playful tone.

Harry is laughing as he sets the chicken to defrost in the microwave and starts pulling out a wok. “Fried rice cool with you?”

Michael nearly starts salivating and it must show on his face because Harry presses a smacking kiss to his cheek as he passes by to what turns out to be a spice cupboard.

“Oi, there’ll be none of that in here,” Louis says, whip-sharp. “Rule number one, no funny business in the kitchen.”

“You mean to tell me that you two _haven’t_ fucked in this kitchen?” Michael asks incredulously, arching an eyebrow. “ _You two?”_

Harry’s grin is lascivious as he hides behind his curls, the wink he shoots Michael hidden behind Louis’ back.

Louis huffs. “We are not animals, Michael Clifford. This is sacred space.”  

The snorting laugh that comes from Harry makes Michael’s grin stretch wider.

“Lou, babe, the only thing sacred about this place is me, given how much you were yelling my name to the skies.”

“How _very_ dare you—” Louis grumbles as Harry kisses him quiet, making a face. “Ugh. Just go and check on the chicken, dickhead.”

Harry smirks as he turns away.

“Thanks,” Michael says a few minutes later, when he too has a knife in his hands and is clumsily chopping carrots. “For all of this. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“We don’t take in strays often, Clifford, but the Tomlinson-Styles residence is open to those in need,” Louis says, tossing an onion peel across the counter at him. “Anyway, s’not like we wouldn’t eat if you were here.”

Harry barks a loud laugh as he pours rice into the cooker. “You’d be eating a very different meal if he wasn’t here, Lou.”

Michael doesn’t understand Louis’ eye roll or huffed exasperation until Louis whacks Harry’s bum when he passes by. He chokes. “Oh my god.”

Louis winks at him.

“I hope you burn something, Harry.”

Harry turns on him with a beaming smile. “Wouldn’t have dinner then, would you, Michael Clifford.”

Michael resigns himself to an evening of blatant sexual jokes, innuendos and nauseatingly cute domesticity from two of the biggest popstars in the world with surprisingly little protest. Then again, sexual jokes are the pinnacle of his repertoire so he can’t complain.   

He realises then with a jolt that he had forgotten the reason he had come here in the first place amidst the care-free atmosphere he had been wrapped up in. With a small smile at the bickering men on the other side of the counter, Michael returns to the carrots.

A change of scenery would be good for him anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weeellll? Haha please leave comments! I love to read them and I love the support :D 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. I know it's been almost two months since the last chapter and I'm SORRY. Michael was upset and Luke wasn't cooperating and nothing was happening. 
> 
> But! It came rushing back in the past few days and I've finally finished it to a degree that I like. I hope you guys can forgive Luke ;) 
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient to any of you who were waiting <3 So, enjoy!
> 
> P.S: None of the chapters are actually beta-ed, so any mistakes are mine and I'm so sorry for not editing properly for I am trash. Enjoy!

Dinner is fun. Filled with laughter, recounted tour shenanigans and near-orgasmic food, Michael is relaxed and smiling properly for the first time in days as the meal comes to an end.

“If I eat any more, I’ll actually die. But I want more,” he moans, fork clicking as he sets it on the plate. “But I’m gonna explode and you’ll have to clean up my body parts.”

Louis makes a face as he chews on his last piece of chicken. “I don’t fancy having your organs strewn ‘bout me house so don’t eat any more.”

“Michael,” Harry interjects with a sleepy roll of his eyes. “You should talk to Luke.”

His heart sinks below his stomach and his appetite fades in the face of the conversation he should’ve seen coming.

“And there goes the mood,” Louis drawls, settling back in his chair. “You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you, Styles.”

Harry just flips him a look and Louis holds up his hands, acquiescing with an amused expression. “I’ll go grab the wine then, shall I?” The eldest sighs as he gets to his feet.   

The wine, definitely on expensive side, flows and Harry talks, a rather dramatic retelling of an epic fight that he had with Louis back during the Take Me Home tour. Michael feels his jaw drop as he realises exactly where this story is going.

“Wait,” he interrupts, eyeing Louis’ rapidly fading grin. “This wasn’t—that time everyone though we— _Harry.”_

Harry cackles, leaning back with the wine glass held between long, delicate fingers. He oozes the aura of a powerful, manipulative prince. “I’m sorry about that, Michael. But…” Harry smirks at Louis’ scowl. “It worked rather well.”    

“Too well,” Louis mutters. “Your half-baked plan was never supposed to work that well, Styles.”

“I would feel used and kind of offended but it isn’t every day that you have Harry Styles wanting to spend his free time with you, even if it was all a plan to make his boyfriend jealous.” Michael laughs. “Oh my god. Harry, I fucking love you.”

Harry sips his wine. The satisfaction is clear in the upward curl of his lips around the glass. “Louis genuinely thought I’d slept with you in those few months. Was pissed off for weeks.”

“Man, I fucking _wish,”_ Michael says, grinning. Louis’ scowl falls deeper into the furrows of his eyebrows. “That would probably have been a religious experience. Such a shame.”

“Take those words back, young Michael,” Louis says, short nails clinking against his glass. “I know someone who would kill a man if I asked him.”

“Didn’t know Niall was in America these days,” Michael quips, not missing a beat.

Harry’s guffaw is impulsive, bursting out in its loud and ridiculous, barking quality as he folds over himself and loses all the eloquent grace he had radiated seconds ago.

Michael sips his wine to hide the beaming grin as Louis sets down his glass and falls back against his chair, arms crossed over his chest in a huff.

“Fuck you.”

Michael just continues drinking the wine, cheeks aching.

“Alright, enough,” Harry says as he curbs his laughter. His dimples are curving deep into his cheeks and his eyes gleam a bright grey-green. “The point of that story was that you shouldn’t be stupid like us and talk to Luke.”

Michael wants to drown in the wine. He thinks he just might be able to.

“Lou, Jesus, stop giving him wine.”

“Look at him, Hazza. The boy needs it.”

Harry grabs the bottle out of Louis’ hands and sets it on the other side of the table, well out of reach of both Louis and Michael.

Michael sighs. “I don’t want to talk to Luke,” he grumbles. “He’s being a shitty friend. And I hate him.”

“That,” Louis says, “would’ve been more believable coming from someone whose pants were on fire.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s no way to talk to your elders, babe.”

Michael glares, wondering if he could burn a hole straight through the older man.

Harry places a hand on Louis’ arm atop the table, squeezing gently. “Louis, come on. Needling him isn’t going to help. He’s upset. Let him be angry.”

“Fine. _Jesus.”_ Louis rolls his eyes. But he shoves his chair next to Harry’s and sinks into Harry’s side, settling warm, pale blue eyes on Michael. “Look babe, just talk to him. He’s probably too scared to approach you, you know? Likely feeling guilty as fuck.”

Michael lets out a tightly controlled breath, trying to curb the fury that burns in his chest. “There was no _fucking_ need to yell at us like that, like, what the fuck is his problem anyway? He wasn’t even home! He should be feeling guilty. Why would he need to be _scared?_ ”  

A careful glance passes between the two popstars on the opposite side of the table.

Jesus Christ, if they’re going to have one of those eye-conversations, Michael is actually going to leave. He’ll walk home if he has to. All twelve kilometres.

 _“What?”_ He exclaims, exasperated.

It’s Louis who leans forward, breaking away from Harry’s eyes as the curly haired singer smiles reassuringly at Michael.

“Michael, I have a theory, alright? But I need you to talk to Luke before I say anything. Work it out with him. I can’t promise any miracles but I know he’ll want to talk to you, yeah? Will you try, at least?”

The soft tone eases the heat that’s simmering between his lungs and Michael breathes out slowly. “This is a fucking mess.”

Louis chuckles quietly, reaching across the table to pat Michael’s tangled hands. “It is that. And you should tell Ashton or Calum. Or both. They deserve to know.”

Michael blanches at that. “Tell them? About Jace?”

“We’re heading back to London tomorrow. Well,” Harry rolls his eyes, “ _officially_ , Lou is heading back. Unofficially, I’m also going back to London tomorrow.”

“So that’s still happening then,” Michael muses. “I’m sorry.”  

Louis waves his glass. “Don’t worry ‘bout us, been doing this shit for years, haven’t we? Anyway, it’s well past nine and I’m fucking old, so I need to sleep. M’afraid we’ll have to kick you out.”

“The point _, Louis_ , is that Michael needs someone here who knows about all this besides Jace,” Harry says, throwing a fond, infuriated look at his boyfriend. Louis flashes him an innocent smile. “Ashton and Calum are good lads.”

“I know.” Michael deflates back in his chair, dropping his head onto the wooden beam. “I don’t know—I’ll think about it. Thank you, guys. For everything. I’m sorry I dumped all this shit on you.”

Louis snorts. “Oh please. You know I love drama, babe. I live for this shit. And I was kidding about kicking you out. You can stick around, if you like, yeah? Haz and I usually watch Breaking Bad reruns.”

Michael laughs. “I’ll hang around for a couple more hours, if that’s cool? I’ll be old and boring with you for one evening, see how the other half lives.”

He gets a piece of carrot tossed at him for his trouble and it lands right in his open mouth. Of course, the situation then rapidly devolves into target practice and Michael obediently sits in his chair with his mouth open while Harry and Louis throw various small food items at him.

Most of it lands on his clothes.

It’s fun, nonetheless. It’s a nice reminder that Harry and Louis haven’t changed all that much despite the growing fame that has being dumped over their heads over the years.

                                                                

*

 

The next day is filled with promo, interviews and barely any time to breathe. Calum finds him on the balcony at two a.m., wrapped in a soft, old hoodie and watching the night shift over LA. The orange glow of street lights blurs into single lines in the distance and a crescent moon peaks around clouds as they drift across the sky.  

There had been no time for either Ashton or Calum to question him about his panicked escape and spontaneous dinner at Harry and Louis’ place, for which Michael had been grateful. Luke still hadn’t looked at him or spoken to him since the fight beyond keeping up a cheerful façade for the press, and while that had settled as a muted ache in his chest, Michael got through the day with his heart reasonably intact.

He doesn’t say anything as Calum leans on the glass panel railing beside him and pulls on a cigarette. The end gleams, sharp orange streaked with red and grey, an ember in the darkness.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Michael murmurs after a moment, eyes flicking back to the city.

A puff of smoke.

Calum huffs a quiet laugh as he breathes out. The rough tang of cigarette smoke curls around them. “It’s a metaphor,” he says dryly.

Michael snorts softly out his nose. “Right.”

The silence builds, the rumbling of cars and night life a distant soundtrack to Michael’s insomnia. They have a busy day tomorrow, or later today, and he should be sleeping. In fact, both of them should be fast asleep.

“Why’re you out here, Mike?” Calum asks after a few moments tick by without a sound from either of them.

Michael tugs the hood around to hide his face and the smile that pulls at his mouth. “Felt like being outside for once.”

“We went through this.” Calum nudges their shoulders together, just enough that they stay pressed together and Michael feels Calum’s body heat leech through the material of his hoodie. “You can’t lie to me, Mikey.”

_Mikey._

“Jace called me _Mikey,”_ Michael says with a growing grin. He bites his lip. “I think Luke’s jealous,” he mutters under his breath, cheeks heating regardless of how hard he tries not to blush.

The night is quiet enough for Calum to hear him and a warm chuckle from the boy next to him says that he definitely heard.

“Of course he is.” Calum pushes against his arm, taking another drag of his cigarette. “He’s the only one who’s called you that for so long and besides, that one time Liz tried, she got roasted for it by her own son.” 

Michael’s chest aches with something sweet and nostalgic. “Back when life was simple.”

“You sound so fond, you little shit.” Calum laughs a little louder and it rings through the night across the back patio. “God, anyone with two eyes can see how much you love him.”

“Shut up,” Michael groans, palming down his face, elbows hurting from the glass pressing into them. “Please. Shut up.”

That seems to sober Calum and he wraps an arm around Michael, pressing his cheek to Michael’s hoodie-covered shoulder. “Talk to me, bro. What’s going on? What’s the deal with Harry and Louis?”

“It’s fake,” comes tumbling out of Michael before he can stop it, the exhaustion and the bone-deep, aching burn of unrequited love vaulting over the silent walls he’d built. He swallows thickly, eyes stead-fast on the ink-smeared horizon as Louis’ words ring in his ears. _They deserve to know._ “Jace and me. It’s…we’re not actually together.”

The silence that follows the confession rings with Calum’s shock and despite the winded sound that comes out of him when he tries to speak, he says nothing for a good thirty seconds. Thirty seconds in which Michael prays for divine intervention and death via a random lightning strike.

“Say something,” he whispers eventually.

Calum deflates, shoulders slumping like strings had been cut and Michael feels the movement as it jostles him.

“I don’t understand,” Calum says slowly after a few more silent seconds. “Why would you not be together? You’ve been—Why would you need…what is he, a fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes out. “Fake boyfriend.”

Calum says nothing, his silence expectant.

“The logic is flawed.” Michael hangs his head, pushing his hood back and fidgeting with his hair. “It’s sort of…Louis said something as a joke and—well. I took it seriously.”

“Logic was never your strongest point,” Calum says lightly. “So, what, you managed to find the only guy in the world who isn’t related to Luke but is pretty much his doppelganger in a random gay club in LA?”

Michael barks a laugh, rubbing at his reddening cheeks. “You can laugh but that’s…actually kind of what happened.”

Calum is silent for a moment. Then, “Are you serious? That’s—you actually— _Michael.”_

“Please,” he mutters. “Don’t. I’ve gotten enough shit from Jace and Louis about my life choices. Harry is being generally sweet but rational about it but he’s _Harry,_ so…”

“Jace,” Calum says. He moves away to the outdoor table and stubs out the cigarette on the ashtray before settling beside Michael again. “He knows, then.”

Michael hums. “Of course he does. I couldn’t let him believe that it was real, could I?”

“Suppose that would’ve been a bit cruel.”

“Oh, just a bit.”

Calum bumps Michael’s shoulder with a good-natured huff. “Maybe you should just date Jace. Coincidences like this often aren’t coincidences at all, and this is a pretty big coincidence.”

“That was surprisingly wise, Yoda,” Michael says. It only sounds a _little_ mocking.

“You need to find new ways to mock my intelligence. But I’m just saying. Everything happens for a reason and…” Calum hesitates a little. “And maybe Jace will be good for you. You’ve been smiling more with him around after the whole girlfriend thing. Not these past couple days, but in general…”

Michael laughs lightly. “Yeah. He’s a good guy, I guess, funny and level-headed. But it wouldn’t be right, not to him.” He drops his voice until it’s just barely above a whisper. “I love Luke, Cal, in this…painful, cosmic sort of way and it wouldn’t—I can’t ask Jace to deal with that.”

 _Cosmic._ He has clearly been watching spending too much time on Tumblr.

Calum deflates and pulls him into a tight, side-hug. “Cosmic, eh? Yeah, I guess you’re right. But speaking of Luke, will you talk to him? Seeing you guys fighting like this…” Calum trails off and sighs. “Please?”

Michael ignores the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. “He’s the one who went off accusing me of being useless and distracted. He should talk to _me_.”

A pained sound comes from behind them. “I was just about to,” says a quiet voice.

The two of them jump apart, spinning around to face the tall, hunched figure hidden in the shadows of the doorway. When Luke steps forward into the dim light of the moon, he looks small, shoulders curling forward and hands tucked fast into the pockets of his jumper.

Michael feels every word he knows shrivel up and die in his throat.

“We’re all gonna be so fucking useless at the shoot tomorrow,” Calum says but smiles, squeezing Michael’s arm. “But if it means you two are best friends again, I doubt anyone will care.”

He heads for the house, stopping to reassure Luke with a smile. Michael doesn’t hear what is being said over the buzzing in his ears. As Calum disappears into the dark mouth of the house, Luke takes a few slow steps towards Michael, expression hesitant and eyes apologetic.

“Mikey,” he says softly.

Michael holds fast to the anger that had bubbled up as soon as he had seen Luke. He would not cave. Not easily.

“Mikey,” Luke says again when Michael says nothing, taking a couple more steps forward until it leaves them barely a metre apart. The moonlight glints off his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

A breath comes rushing out of Michael. He looks away from the earnest gleam in Luke’s shadowed eyes, hands hanging uselessly by his sides.

“Why?” He asks after a moment. His voice is edging on strained. “I could’ve taken the anger, Luke, but you flung words around like you didn’t care about how much they’d hurt.”  

Luke hunches further into himself, face twisting into regret. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry. God, Mikey, you’re not useless, I don’t—you _know_ I don’t think that. I—you’d been spending so much time with him and you didn’t come out with us and I just—I reacted badly.”

He looks small and incredibly young in that moment, younger than he’s looked in months, especially given that he’s clean-shaven, soft and beautiful. Michael’s heart aches.

 _Reacted badly,_ he wants to scoff, _understatement of the fucking millennium._ But he doesn’t. There’s something in Luke’s face that makes him stay quiet, makes him listen.

“I thought…well.” Luke huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “It was a bit selfish, I guess. We’d had you to ourselves for so long and suddenly there was this random guy—”

“You were jealous,” Michael says slowly as it dawns on him. He stares at Luke as a smile starts to creep across his face. “You were _jealous_ that I wasn’t superglued to your side every day so you lashed out and made it worse. Luke, you’re a complete _moron.”_

An indignant scowl. “I wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t—you just weren’t _here_ when I wanted—when we wanted— _shut up.”_

With the sudden beam of sunlight in his chest, Michael can’t stop grinning. “That’s my line, Hemmings.” But he gives in to the pout that makes Luke’s lower lip jut out and holds out his arms, wiggling his fingers. “Come here, dumbass.”

It’s like whatever tether is holding Luke back suddenly snaps and he collapses into Michael’s arms in a flurry of limbs, face tucked into the curve of Michael’s throat even though he is just too tall to do that comfortably. Michael hooks his chin over Luke’s shoulder, arms tight to bruising around his waist as Luke near-chokes him as he squeezes his neck. The hug lasts though, softening until they’re just holding each other, absorbing the offered comfort, hearts beating together under the light of the waxing moon in the City of Angels.

Michael revels in it. That he can have this at 2 a.m. with Hollywood at their feet. It feels bigger than it probably is, something momentous that is cemented in their lives by the gravity of their feelings as they cling to each other like they’re fifteen again in a house alone for the first time on the other side of the world.

Michael thinks that this would probably seem dramatic to an outsider, but the truth is, they don’t have fights and not talk for days afterward. It’s not like any of them to shut anyone out for more than a few hours to get over the anger before they’re back to biting playfully at each other and climbing into laps. There’s a difference between not talking for days because he’s holed up in front of his laptop and not talking because they’d fallen out over something. Michael much prefers the first situation.  

“I’m sorry I implied that you were being useless,” Luke mumbles, voice all but silent. “You’re not. You work so hard.”

His breath is warm on Michael’s neck, stark contrast to the cool night air, and Michael shivers, fingers flexing against Luke’s back.

“Apology accepted,” he says, pulling away. His fingers trail along Luke’s sides and Luke catches his gaze, blue eyes warm and relieved.

“Thanks.” Luke bites his lip, cutting his eyes away before he looks back at Michael with a sheepishness in the curl of his mouth. “So, that song you wrote…”

The panic that flares in Michael’s stomach is surprisingly faint and he laughs a little as Luke shuffles on pigeon-toed feet. “I’m sorry I ran away. I’ll finish the song with Cal after the video is filmed and I promise you can listen to it then.”

Luke looks adorably put out. “That’ll take like three days. I wanna hear it now.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “And you _will,_ Jesus, calm down. Patience is a virtue, Lucas—” He squeaks as he’s dragged in for a short, rib-cracking hug. “The fuck was that for?”

“I missed you.” Luke flashes a small smile, pulling away. There’s a hint of a cheeky glint in his eyes. “And your constant need to abuse me.”

Michael snorts and reaches up to ruffle Luke’s hair. His spirits rise when Luke ducks his head a little to let him. “That was your own damn fault, idiot. Next time, try to be an adult. Come on, though, Calum is right for once. We should go to bed.”

“My room?” Luke says, tugging on Michael’s arm and leading him into the house. “We only have like, four hours left anyway.”

Heart thumping hard against his ribs, Michael nods as joy floods through his veins. They haven’t shared a bed since the last time Luke had been sick and that was months ago. Michael had gotten sick not two days later and spent the following week whining pitifully at anyone who’d listen. Of course, the only one who _would_ listen was Luke because he knew that it was his own fault for coercing Michael into his bed with unhappy coughs and wide, teary blue eyes.  

Ten minutes later, the two of them are huddled under the covers on the two sides of Luke’s queen bed.

“G’night, Mikey.”

Michael smiles at the ceiling, observing the shadowy curve of Luke’s body out of the corner of his eye as Luke lies on his side, facing the windows. “’Night,” he answers after a moment. “And Luke?”

“Yeah?” comes the soft, slurry response. Luke sounds like he’s already half asleep.

“I missed you too.”

 

*

 

Needless to say, when Michael follows Luke out of his bedroom the next morning, Ashton collapses as melodramatically as possible into Calum’s waiting arms with an exaggerated gasp of relief. The twin grins beneath the dramatics are wide and relieved though, as Michael chuckles to himself.

“Fuck off,” Luke growls as he stalks past them and stomps down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Wow, you’d think getting Michael back would’ve made him happy,” Ashton says loudly, but turns to Michael with a softening grin. “Nice work, buddy. I’m glad you’re back to crawling into each other’s beds.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Thank you but shut the fuck up. Don’t act like you don’t know he’s a fucking dragon in the morning always.”

Ashton slings an arm over his shoulders as the three of them make their way down to the kitchens to join grumpy Luke.

“Yeah, I know, you shit, don’t swear at me. But I’m happy that you worked it out,” he says, quieter and more earnest. “This band doesn’t work when any of us are fighting.”

Calum takes the spot on Ashton’s other side as they head down the stairs. “Can you imagine shooting this video if you two had been pissed off at each other? Would’ve been a disaster.”

Michael snorts. “I’d just have taken a hose and soaked him from head to foot and then shoved cake down his pants.”

“I’d have thrown you in the fucking pool!” Luke hollers from the kitchen. “I still might!”

“I love you too!” Michael calls back. The grin on his face droops a little however when he gets two very amused looks from the two boys beside him. “What?”

Ashton just grins and ducks in through the kitchen doorway. Michael narrows his eyes.

“Nah, s’nothing.” Calum pats his shoulder. “Breakfast?”       

 

*

 

Michael is in pain. He’s been laughing and laughing and laughing for the past twenty minutes, reduced to a teary-eyed, flailing mess, yet still laughing through the agonising stitches twinging along his ribs. Calum and Luke aren’t in any better shape, collapsed beside him on the concrete and crying as much as they’re laughing.  

“Arrrrggggghhhhhhhhhh!”

The three of them roll around on the ground in near silence, arms tight around their stomachs and faces twisted in cackling grimaces, as Ashton hollers, on set for the third take of his scene at a little kid’s birthday party.

“I can’t watch much more,” Calum hacks out. “I can’t fucking breathe!”

Luke moans and it comes out a cross between pain and amusement.

“I’m crying too much to be watching,” Michael wheezes helplessly. “Ashton!” He tries to yell. It comes out sounding strangled instead. “Stop! I’m gonna die!”

Ashton is currently getting pummelled by a horde of little children half his size, sprawled on the floor, with the dinosaur mascot suit covered in crumbs and cake in his hair. He’s in no position to stop anything.

Michael doubles over once again as the wicked little boy with the afro smears icing over Ashton’s face.

“ _Cut!”_ Their director finally calls. “Alright, you’re done, Ashton!”

As four people manage to persuade the kids away, a thoroughly defeated Ashton scrambles off the ground and legs it towards them as best as he can in the bulky costume, chunks of cake falling off him along the way like a trail. It reminds Michael, bizarrely, of Hansel and Gretel.

“I,” Ashton pants, hands braced on his knees, “am never,” a heaving breath, “ever having kids.”

 

*

 

The rest of the afternoon is spent fooling around on soap and water slides, swathed in bubble wrap armour, and tossing each other into the pool under the guise of filming a music video.

The spandex wrestling suits leave nothing to the imagination and Michael watches from behind sunglasses, only a little ashamed, as Luke films his scenes in the boxing ring.

“You’re drooling, Toto,” Ashton teases as he passes by, thumping his back. Michael takes a half-hearted swing at him and Ashton ducks away, laughing.

“Mikey!” Luke yells, grinning beneath his mask. He’s standing out of the ring, half-turned towards the mansion, waving at him wildly. “Come on! Pool time!”

Calum waggles his eyebrows at him as he helps Ashton fix a twisted strap on his suit. “Your boy’s calling, Clifford.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Michael reminds him unnecessarily as he walks towards Luke.

Calum’s laughter is obnoxiously loud and although Ashton has no idea why Calum is really sounding like a dying hyena, he joins in. Michael lets them be and runs for Luke, grinning as Luke’s expression twists into fear and he spins around, legging it away from Michael.

The awkward, crawling tension from the past couple of days is gone and Michael is glad to be able to breathe freely without having to worry about Luke snapping something at him. 

"You coming, slow poke?" Luke yells, halfway to the house. 

Michael laughs as he chases him, feeling a little like that one Todd Carey song.

 

_You got my heart blowing up_

_Like the shoes with the pumps_

_Got my battleship sunk_

_And you already know_

_You take me back like Nintendo_

 

*

 

“We should go somewhere,” Luke says, head lolling back against the edge of the pool. “In like, January. Don’t we have like a month or something off?”

They’ve finished filming and given some time to rest. Naturally they’d been too tired and lazy to get out of the pool, now they were all turning into prunes.

Michael has been feeling like he’s been walking on air all day with Luke back to his normal self. Even being knocked breathless on the ground by a professional wrestler hadn’t brought him down. In that moment as they all relax in the blessed coolness of the pool, Luke is still by his side, like he’d been most of today. It’s nice to actually see physical evidence that Luke had missed him. Michael may not have said it before last night but he had missed Luke in those few days, much more than he’d like to admit.

He pops open one eye and studies Luke now, interested. His hair is curling at the ends, dark blonde from the water and Michael watches a small droplet slip down his neck.

Ashton hums, eyes closed behind sunglasses, in a similar position to Luke. “Bit longer, I think.”

“How ‘bout Bali?” Calum suggests, stirring the water idly. “We never did the whole schoolies thing, anyway.”

Michael perks up, water splashing Luke in the face as Michael jumps up. “That’ll be awesome! Fucking _Bali,_ bro, we totally should!”

“We could ask the guys,” Luke says, shooting water at Michael’s face with a dimply grin. “Roy and Matt, Brian if he’s free.”

“And Crystal and her sister.” Michael spits out the water, looking at Ashton. “If Bryana’s coming?”

Ashton is starting to look more alive, straightening up to join them with a widening, excited grin on his face pushing dimples into his cheeks. “That’ll be fucking amazing.”

“Sick.” Calum nods, grinning. “We can ask a few more people too.” He shoots Michael a look before he speaks again. “Luke, you inviting Arzaylea?”

Michael jolts a little because it’s been a while since he’s heard that name and he realises, rapidly, why Calum had made a pointed gesture at him.

Luke’s eyes are bright shining blue, reflecting the water. “Yeah, obviously. I’ll ask Lea tomorrow. Guys, this is gonna be fucking _incredible.”_

“Bali!” Ashton hollers, throwing his arms in the air.

Laughing, Michael leans back against the pool wall, already forming a battle plan to coerce Jace into coming to Bali. God knows if _she’s_ coming, Michael will need all the emotional support that he can get.

“Finally doing Bali like the true-blue Aussies we are,” Luke declares in his awful bogan accent. “Get us some of those Bintang shirts.”

Michael snorts as the three of them collapse into giggles. “Alright, Crocodile Dundee, you’re giving us all a bad name.”

“I’d like to see you do better, son,” Luke drawls as he tips his sunglasses down his nose with a grin.

Michael lunges forward and pushes that annoyingly fluffy gold head under the water. As Luke struggles and manages to yank himself free from Michael’s grabbing fingers and comes up spluttering, Calum snorts a laugh.

“There are much easier ways to shut him up.”

“I’ll be drowning you next if you don’t shut up,” Michael tosses over his shoulder as he dives after Luke as he frantically tries to swim away.

 

_Something about you I can’t explain_

_But man, you got me feeling like a kid again_

_And damn you got me crushing like way back when_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it haha and be prepared for you-know-who FINALLY make an appearance in the next chapter. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Please please leave comments if you want to ^_^ I love reading them and they fuel me everyday. Love you guys so very much <3 
> 
> Also, the song in the chapter is Nintendo by Todd Carey.


	10. A vision in the morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT. First of all, I'M SO SO SORRY that it's taken almost four months (??????) for me to post the next chapter. I'm trash and I know it. Sigh.

“Yo.”

Michael looks up from his laptop to find Luke leaning on the doorframe, looking for all the world like he owns the place and maybe the universe too. Hands thrown into the pockets of his sweats, a baseball cap backwards on his head, and so utterly, _deliciously_ shirtless, Luke is the perfect picture of relaxation.

There’s an echo in his ears of Mary-Jane saying, _I’ve always been standing in your doorway,_ to Peter Parker, and he hates himself just a little.

“What?” Michael says intelligently, blinking at Luke.

Luke snorts. “You busy?”

Michael just raises an eyebrow at him, ninety per cent sure that Luke isn’t in fact blind and can see the headset around his neck and the several cans of Red Bull beside his laptop.

“Alright, smartass. What I _meant_ was, if you haven’t started playing, do you want to grab lunch with us?”

Luke’s stomach muscles shift as he adjusts his position against the woodwork, crossing his arms over his chest. Torso long and legs even longer, Luke really does look good enough to eat. Michael wants to climb him like a tree and swing from the branches. Now _that_ is the kind of exercise he can get behind.

“Who’s _us?”_ Michael asks instead of voicing what is probably the _worst_ innuendo of all time, leaning back in his chair and twirling the wire of his headset around his finger.

Luke bites over his lip ring, straightening up and suddenly looking nervous as his feet point inwards. He’s adorable and Michael wants to pull him for a cuddle and maybe kiss his face until he’s laughing.  

“So, Lea is free, and Ash and Cal wanted to grab lunch with us too?” Luke bares his teeth in a sheepish grin, blue eyes scrunching up and dimples popping as he rocks on his heels like a pleading child.

Ah.

Did he say adorable? His mistake. Luke is the devil incarnate and Michael will not hear otherwise. That quote from Taylor Swift suddenly became very relevant in his life. Something about devils pulling you towards angels—

“And uh, well, you…haven’t actually met Lea yet,” Luke adds, interrupting Michael’s vivid mental creation of Luke with red horns and a tail, cackling madly as he stands over the earth with a red, flaming pitchfork stabbed through it. “So, I thought maybe you’d…want to come?”

The earth starts to look disturbingly Michael-shaped.  

“Oh, uh,” Michael flounders. He searches desperately for an excuse and comes up empty-handed. Sometimes, knowing each other inside out has its downsides. Deflating internally, he shrugs at Luke. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Awesome!” Luke beams, resembling an over-excited Labrador for a moment as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “We’re leaving in an hour,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

Michael stares at the empty doorway for a few long moments before his head slams onto his keyboard with an unpleasant crash.

He could make it through this without saying anything he would regret. He could. Probably.

 

*

 

It happens accidentally.

Michael is mindlessly scrolling through Twitter after getting changed into lunch-appropriate clothes because there’s no time to start a game, and that’s when he sees it.

_@iamcalm: Honestly when will she realise that she doesn’t deserve Luke, what a fucking mess_

A frown pulling at his eyebrows, Michael shifts on his bed and clicks on the username. That’s probably his first mistake. It leads him to the girl’s account and hundreds of tweets with a play-by-play of Luke’s relationship since it leaked to the public.

Michael finds himself sucked into a vortex of drama with no warning, eyebrows rising higher and higher as he reads fan accounts of meeting _her_ and how rude she had apparently been, meeting Luke and being told that they couldn’t take pictures, meeting Luke and _her_ dragging him away without letting them even say hi. There was a whole other set of tweets about the… _questionable_ photographs that had been posted up.

He scrolls through a breakdown of her apparent previous relationship, very unsure about what to think amidst the onslaught of information. Because, past his personal reasons against meeting her, he has no qualms about this girl and he’s pretty sure that Calum or Ashton would have said something if it had spiralled far enough to cause actual dissent with the fans. Michael feels a little guilty when he considers the option that all the hatred might be stemming from jealousy because that really isn’t fair, especially considering that he hates her and it’s _definitely_ because he’s jealous as fuck.

Maybe she just isn’t a nice person.

Michael rolls his eyes at himself, because wouldn’t that be lucky for him. But, knowing his luck, she’s probably really sweet, like Bryana—

“Hey, you coming?”

He jerks out of his head, closing Twitter hurriedly, and scrambles up. Calum is laughing as he stands in the doorway, shaking his head.

“How far away were you?” Calum chuckles as Michael follows him into the hallway. “That was some frown on your face.”

Michael’s laugh is tinged with nervousness. “Just trying to play flappy bird, that’s all.”

The look on Calum’s face could have dried up the Amazon. “Right. Sure, and when did you download flappy bird? They dumped the app like a year ago.”

Oh, right. Shit.

The panic must show on his face because Calum snorts, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his. “Calm down, I’m not your mother. I’m not gonna yell at you for…” he eyes Michael, “doing whatever it is that you were doing. But like, if it was porn, mate, it’s only noon. Control yourself.”

Michael knows that if Calum ever found out, he would definitely yell. Maybe not _yell_ but Calum would not be happy. Because Calum doesn’t like drama and he doesn’t actively go looking for the drama either.

So, Michael just laughs and jostles Calum as they finally make it out of the front door to the waiting car. Luke and Ashton are inside, sitting opposite each other and chatting about a party.

“So, where exactly did I agree to go to?” Michael asks, immediately jumping in and squishing himself next to Ashton.

Calum grumbles as he sits beside Luke who just rolls his eyes. “Cal, you need to, like, learn how to live without Ashton,” he says as the car starts moving. “I think you can survive.”

“Yeah, I never get any Ashton time.” Michael clutches Ashton’s arm. “Mashton has died a very tragic death because you’re glued to his hip twenty-four seven. Let the man breathe and enjoy my charming company.”

Luke snorts.

Calum drops back into his seat and grumbles even more. Michael turns to look at a silent Ashton and exchanges a glance with Luke when he sees the small smile curling Ashton’s lips as he looks at Calum. When Calum lifts his eyes from his shoes and catches Ashton watching him, his mouth curves up immediately.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like we’re invisible.” Michael unhooks his arms from Ashton with a roll of his eyes. “Luke, where the fuck are we even going?”

He gets a bright grin in return. “This awesome burger place. There’s an Oreo milkshake there that’s fucking heavenly. Lea’s meeting us there.”

 _Greeeeaat,_ Michael thinks to himself. “Oreo milkshake? What’re you like, _five?”_ He asks instead.

Luke sticks out his tongue, slumping down next to Calum.

“Stupid question.” Michael rolls his eyes. “You _are_ five.”

Ashton and Calum are still doing whatever weird mating ritual they started, with the careful glances and ridiculous expressions on their faces. Michael vehemently wishes he stayed in his room.  

“I regret this decision.”

Luke throws him a grin. “You won’t in half an hour.”

Michael would love to be that young and naively optimistic. Or blissfully ignorant. Or just really fucking oblivious.

 

*

 

She’s beautiful.

Michael swallows a sigh as they sit down at a table inside the blessedly air-conditioned interior of the café.

She’s beautiful, because of course she is, latched on to Luke’s right hand side, and there’s a soft, lovely smile on his face as he looks down at her. Michael feels the guilt pooling in his stomach as he forces a smile onto his face when Luke turns to introduce them.

“Mikey, this is Lea, and Lea, this is Michael.”

She smiles, bright white teeth and wine-dark lips, thick eyelashes and dark eyes. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah,” he says. His stomach clenches. “You too.”

Luke beams, hand curling around the back of her neck for a moment before he pulls it back and shuffles his chair forward. Michael swallows the heavy feeling in his throat and swears to himself that wouldn’t be the one to ruin this.

 _Happy,_ he repeats to himself. All he needs is Luke to be happy.

He jumps a little when a hand lands on his arm under the table edge and looks up to find Ashton not looking at him, engaged in a conversation about the upcoming Bali trip with the other three, squeezing his arm for a moment before letting go.

Michael breathes in and out slowly, grounding himself under Ashton’s touch, before shaking his head and zeroing in on the conversation, shoving all the feelings bubbling under his skin to the back of his mind.

“Two weeks, you reckon?” He asks.

Calum nods eagerly from the head of the table, eyes bright. “We deserve a fucking holiday.”

“And we’re getting one,” Ashton says with a shake of his head, fondness obvious in the roll of his eyes. “But we’ve got to start booking hotels and shit soon ‘cos we’ve got pretty big group.”

 _She_ hums, long nails tapping _clack-clack-clack_ on her phone as she leans towards Luke. “A private villa would be awesome, right, so we’re alone. Anyways, I talked to dad yesterday after Luke called,” she says, “and he gave me a few recommendations. If you want, like, I’ll send them to Luke.”

 _Look at me, daddy gives me everything I want,_ Michael mocks in his head, knowing that he’s being entirely irrational but unable to find it in himself to _care,_ because fuck, okay, he’s _trying_ but there’s only so much he can handle when Luke’s eyes gleam blue like that.

“That’d be sick!” Ashton sounds completely sincere, because of _course_ he does, and he doesn’t hate this girl because he isn’t Michael and head over fucking heels in love with her boyfriend. “Thanks.”

The meal progresses from there and Michael stays quiet but contributes every now and again, ignoring the casual touches happening across from him.  A brush of fingers across knuckles, an arm over the back of a chair, bodies automatically leaning towards each other.

Luke flashes him quick looks, half smiles and pleased little quirks of his lips, nudging the toe of his boot against Michael’s, radiating something akin to sunshine. But there’s a spark in his eyes every time _she_ touches his arm, when she steals from his plate, a quick sharp grin at her after some comment about giraffes that have her eyelashes fluttering and lips pulling into a playful scowl.

Michael hates her and hates Luke but mostly hates himself, quietly simmering as he sips on a damn Oreo milkshake and tries to make it out of the lunch with his sanity intact.

 

*

 

When they all part ways, Luke kisses her and Michael cuts his gaze to the cement beneath his feet, studying the hairline fractures running across the sidewalk to ignore the turn of his stomach. He’s never been more grateful for Dave bringing the car around, exhausted and eager to go home, sleep for a few years maybe.

“So…?” Luke turns to him after she’s gone, looking all too hopeful.

Michael smiles, hoping that it looks as genuine as he wishes he felt. “Yeah, man, she’s great, totally get why you like her.”

“Thanks, Mikey.”

Luke’s grin is stunning and the relief on his face makes Michael feel more than a little nauseous as he climbs into the car behind Ashton, sliding into the middle seat of the middle row.

Calum snags the seat next to him.

“Proud of you,” he murmurs under his breath as he shuffles over Michael to climb into the window seat.

Michael sends him a tired look and lets his head drop back on to the seat, eyes falling closed.

 

*

 

Jace watches him through the small iPhone screen and Michael feels the overwhelming urge to pout under the unreadable and definitely judgemental gaze.

 _“What?”_ He finally exclaims, leaning against the iron railing of the stairs leading away from the house down to the studio. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He is outside, away from the other three inside the house, sitting in the shade of a massive fern. Not that the fern is helping the heat, but Michael is prepared to sacrifice comfort for privacy in case any of his nosy bandmates are sneaking around.

Jace shakes his head, a snort pulling Michael’s attention back to him from the holes in the fern fronds.

“I’m like, hearing the words come out of your mouth but…no, no, I really don’t believe any of it,” he says. “Happy for him? She’s _good_ for him?”

“It’s true!” Michael grumbles, sighing. “It’s true. I am and she…is. He looks happy with her.”

“Mike, you trying to convince me or yourself?” Jace asks, laughing. “Your voice sounds fucking dead, man, like someone broke your favourite guitar and you have to pretend that you’re totally fucking fine with it.” He chuckles again, pushing a hand through his hair. “And lemme be the first to tell you that you’re totally failing.”

 _“Fuck_ you, Jace.”

Jace laughs. “Wish I could’ve been there,” he says, shaking his head. “What a show. I’m surprised you didn’t lunge across the table and like, try to fucking strangle her or something.”

Michael sticks up a middle finger at the lens, because the thought had _not_ crossed his mind even once. “Speaking of,” he says after a moment, biting his lower lip. “Can I ask you something?”

“I’m not killing her for you, superstar,” Jace says immediately. “I’m too pretty to go to jail.”

“Fuck off, smartass,” Michel retorts, sticking his tongue out. “I mean, I _was_ gonna ask if you wanted to come to Bali with us in December, like, over New Years’, but maybe I’ll ask someone who’s less narcissistic.”

Jace scoffs with a theatrical roll of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, my face pays my bills—Wait.” He pauses, leaning closer to the phone, a stunned expression crossing his face. “Did you just ask if I wanted to come to Bali with you or am I actually fucking hallucinating in this hellish heat?”

A laugh tumbling out of him, Michael shakes his head with a fond grin. “I know it’s only been like a month but well,” he hesitates, looking away, “… _she’s_ coming and there’s a few of us but—”

“You need someone on the inside of this charade,” Jace finishes for him. He huffs a small laugh as Michael looks at him again. “It’s alright, man, I get it. Besides, who would turn down the chance to party with 5SOS?”

Michael scowls playfully. “It’s not just us, you know, like there’s a whole bunch of us, like Brian from The Summer Set, Alex from The Cab, and maybe I think Pete Wentz—”

 _“Pete Wentz?”_ Jace interrupts, slack-jawed. “You’re going to Bali with _Pete fucking Wentz?”_

Michael bursts into laughter.

“Oh like, just casually _oh yeah, I’m so cool I party with Pete Wentz and Alex De Leon, yeah Ariana Grande knows I exist,”_ Jace rambles on a single breath, “and like _totally, yeah man, All Time Low are basically my best friends now and three quarters of fucking One Direction actually keep in touch with me and Niall tells everyone that he loves us all the time and pfffff yeah so what if we were practically adopted by the Madden brothers, like, it’s no big deal!”_

He can’t breathe for laughing as Jace’s voice continues to rises in pitch and his hand gestures get wilder before he spits out the last word and heaves in a breath, red in the face and glaring at Michael through the screen.

“Yeah,” Jace grumbles, rocking back in his chair. “Laugh it up, you famous fucker, laugh it up.”

“Harry and Louis like you, you know,” Michael wheezes, shoulders curling upwards until he leans forward to brace himself on his knees, grinning. “And Jay? If you say yes, you’re coming with me. You can party with Pete Wentz too.”

There’s a stumped silence filled only with Michael’s strangled breathing.

“Oh.” Jace coughs and then immediately groans, head thudding onto his desk. “Fuck me.”

“That can be arranged,” Michael licks out, grinning, waggling his eyebrows.

“ _Fuck you.”_

Michael barks a laugh. “Also can be arranged.”

Jace peaks at him through the hair falling over his forehead, glaring when he sees the grin on Michael’s face. “I haven’t gotten laid in three months, don’t joke about it or I will take you up on that.”

“Thought you said it’d be a bad idea,” Michael snorts, raising an eyebrow. “‘ _Don’t sleep with a Luke look-alike, Michael. You’ll regret it, Michael. Don’t let your frustration lash out and lead you into choices that you KNOW you’ll regret, Michael. You’ll burn yourself out trying to be normal around Luke and your current relationship with him will fall apart, Michael.’”_

Jace sits up as rolls his eyes. “And I stand by what I said, you shit. I may have almost gotten off with you but, and I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this, thank god for Luke interrupting so we didn’t make the biggest mistake of your life. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m just sexually frustrated and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has intimate relationships listed in the third stage of things that drive human motivation and trust me, I’m really fucking motivated.”

“You talk, I listen, Mr Psychology Major,” Michael says, laughing. “Go out, bro, don’t think you’ll find it too hard to find someone willing to sleep with you. Not with that face, anyway.”

A slow sigh crackles through the phone speakers alongside an amused huff. “Sometimes, rockstar, it’s really hard to tell whether you’re complimenting me because of my face or because it looks like I have Luke’s.”

Michael makes a face. “Shut up, you only really look like him when you have sunglasses on. Don’t change the subject. _Go out,_ bro, find a nice guy, take him home.”

An eyebrow arches. “Fine. You’re cool with it, right?”

“Yeah? We’re not actually dating, Jay,” he says, chuckling.

“I _know_ ,” Jace grumbles, crossing his arms. “Just making sure.”

Michael shakes his head, endeared. “You don’t have to ask, you know, just because I somehow managed to make you feel sorry for me and roped you into this whole mess. You’re a free man.”

Jace smiles, small and soft. “I know. Thanks, Mikey. And I’ll definitely tell you if I meet the man of my dreams and elope with him.”

“You mean that’s not _me?”_ Michael presses a hand to his chest and gasps. “My heart is broken, Jace.”

“Slightly off the market, aren’t you?” The Cheshire Cat grin stretches, baring teeth. “Emotionally, at least.”

Michael levels a dry look at him. “Look, just go out, alright? Nobody knows that you’re supposedly dating me anyway, so it’s fine, seriously.”

“Alright, alright,” Jace laughs, “I’ll go out.”

“So, is that a yes or a no to the Bali thing?”

He gets a snort for that. “Real smooth, Mike, real smooth.” Jace leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fine, okay? I’ll come with you.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “If only for the cheap booze.”

“Such a uni student,” Michael grins. “But thank you, it’ll make my life easier.”

“You’re welcome, man. If Pete Wentz isn’t there, I’ll sue you for providing false information, immediately and without hesitation.”

 

*

 

“Ashton?”

Michael pushes the door open when there’s no answer, soft rock music hitting him as he walks into Ashton’s room.

“Ash?” He tries again.

Still no answer.

Michael steps further into the room, glancing at the speakers on the dresser before approaching the bed and the prone figure sprawled atop the covers. A small, endeared smile pulls at Michael’s mouth as he looks down at the eldest boy, still dressed in jeans and a button-up, phone clutched in his hand and fast asleep with his mouth open. Face slack and relaxed, Ashton looks so young and far more innocent than his usual sharp-jawed, scruffy-chinned manner would suggest.

 _Just gotta talk to mum,_ Ashton had said an hour ago. _Start the movie without me._

Huffing a fond laugh, Michael reaches down and slowly, gently uncurls Ashton’s fingers and slips the phone away, turning off the music.

“Is he coming?” Calum suddenly asks from behind him, startling Michael in the sudden silence.

The phone slips out of his hand and tumbles to the carpeted floors. It lands with a dull thud. Michael grimaces, bending down and picking it, turning to Calum with a finger pressed to his lips in a silent _shhhh._

“He’s asleep,” he whispers, setting the phone on the bedside table. “Come on, help me get him under the sheets.”

Calum blinks at him for a moment before grinning and tip-toeing into the room. “Mama Bear Clifford’s come out, has she?”

Michael pokes Calum between ribs as he slips past. “Shut up. Now lift him up so I can get the covers.”

“Why do I have to lift him up?” Calum whines, crossing his arms. “ _You_ lift him up.”

“Because, Pop-Eye, I don’t have those guns.” Michael gestures to the bulging muscles of Calum’s arms, snorting quietly when Calum hurriedly uncrosses them with a scowl. “I’ll pull the covers from under him, just lift him up, for fuck’s sake.”

Calum shoves him aside with his hip, working his arms under Ashton’s back and knees as gently as possible and grunts a little as he hoists him up. “Hurry up, _fuck_ , Ashton is like five billion kilos of solid muscle.”

“Hold on to your boyfriend,” Michael mutters under his breath as he yanks the covers out of the way.

Ashton tumbles onto the mattress not two seconds later, landing with a soft bounce. Michael shoots a look at Calum.

“ _What?”_ He hisses, stepping back. “I’ve been eating shit and laying about for a day. I’m _tired._ ”

Rolling his eyes, Michael tosses one side of the covers to Calum and together they settle the sheets over Ashton. He curls onto his side immediately, burying his head into the pillows and curling into a ball.

“Aw, he’s so _cute,”_ Michael squeals, grinning. “Look at him!”

Ashton snuffles then, murmuring something too quiet to hear, before he turns over onto his back. The next thing he says is crystal clear. _“…Cal…”_

Michael bites his lip on a laugh.

“ _Cal?”_ He scoffs out loud. “I’m offended, this is _insulting.”_ He bends down to Ashton. “Listen, you shit, _I_ am the one you should be sleep-talking about.”

Ashton, obviously, doesn’t reply. But there’s a small curl to his lips.

Calum smiles down at Ashton for a long moment before blinking rapidly and looking up. Michael rolls his eyes. He _would_ ask but they had always been like this so there wasn’t any point. All part and parcel of the Cashton package.

“Come on,” Calum murmurs, stepping away. “Let ‘im sleep.”

“The movie still going?” Michael asks as the door shuts behind them. “What did you get up to?”

Calum shrugs. “Luke wondered off to the kitchen and I came up to find you. They were walking.”

“ _Walking—_ loads of help, Calum, thank you. It’s not like they walk through the whole film.” Michael shakes his head. “We’ll restart from them leaving Rivendell.”

“But we’re ages past that!”

“Blame Luke,” Michael retorts. “But I want snacks. Do we have any more of those Skittles from last week?”

Calum shrugs. “I think Luke finished them yesterday.”

“Fuck him, seriously? He eats his weight in junk and looks like… _that._ None of this is fair.”

A laugh bubbles out of Calum and he ruffles Michael’s hair. “Don’t complain, idiot, you can just spend your days checking him out.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder as he walks past. “Not that you don’t already.”

Michael scowls. “I hate you.”

 

*

 

“That’s it!” Calum leaps out of the chair, brandishing the sheaf of paper clutched in his hand. “We fucking did it!”

Michael feels like he’s flying, drained and a little numb from having his soul bared and combed through for the past two hours, but it’s the happiest he’s felt in a long time. The words on those papers had come pouring out and with Calum by his side, the song had come to life in a way he hadn’t thought was possible.

He sets his phone on the table as he jumps to his feet and runs right into Calum, arms wrapping tight around him, hooking his chin over a muscled shoulder, to hug him, cling until Calum’s bouncing slows to a stop and he curls right into the hug.

It’s silent in the studio then, suddenly, and Michael just hugs Calum closer to him, relieved tears filling his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says softly into Calum’s shoulder.

A hand rubs up and down his back slowly. “You like it?” Calum asks. “Right? You do like it?”

“I fucking love it.” Michael smiles, blinded a little by his tears as he pulls away and rubs a hand over his eyes. “It’s brilliant.”

Calum’s smile is striking, crinkly eyes and white teeth, dimples for days, and Michael is almost bowled over by the love shining in his best friend’s eyes.

“It’s gonna be amazing,” Green says from their left, quietly breaking into their bubble and Michael is mostly glad because he feels like he’s three seconds away from falling into a sobbing heap on the studio floor.

Hodges nods from where he’s sat at the soundboard. “It’s fucking awesome. Let’s get a proper demo recorded, yeah?”

Calum claps Michael on the shoulder when he looks up, nodding. “We can really show Luke tonight.”

His stomach plunges and a strangled noise comes out of his mouth. “Right,” he mumbles as he grabs his phone off the table and the pages from Calum’s hand. “Luke.” 

Stepping into the recording booth, setting headphones on his head and seeing his words jumping out at him off the page is not a feeling Michael thinks he’ll ever get used to.

So when the music starts and his eyes fall closed, Michael opens his mouth to sing with his mind swirling with thoughts of Luke, an ache in his chest and a strange calm settling on his shoulders.

Four minutes later, he dares to open his eyes, a deep sigh trailing out of him as he pulls the headphones off his head, letting the last plucks of the guitar strings fade.

He takes a few moments to breathe, letting time pass molasses slow around him, until the restlessness under his skin slows to a light buzz.

Hodges is nodding at him with a grin on his face when Michael finally lifts his head, Green beside him simultaneously looking completely bowled over and excited.

Michael looks at Calum last and his shaky control on his emotions cracks at the sight of his best friend watching him with pride shining in his eyes and tear tracks smudged across his cheeks. When Michael sniffs and manages to pull himself together long enough to make a face at him, Calum throws up two thumbs and flashes a watery, eager grin.

Hodges leans forward, pressing a button in front of him. His voice echoes into the booth. “Mike, you’re a legend.”

 

*

 

The car ride home is spent turning his phone over and over in his hands, leaving it hot in his hands, knowing that the song was finally finished and all they needed were their vocals for it to be forged into an album track.

A single, Ashton had said.

God.

Michael lets his head tip onto Calum’s shoulder, exhaustion sticking to his bones.

“You ready?” Calum asks, shifting to let Michael fit comfortably into his side.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, breathing out slowly. “Yeah, I think so.”

 

*

 

By the time they get back to the house, it’s close to midnight and Calum squeezes Michael’s arm as he stops outside Luke’s bedroom door. There’s a crack of light underneath the door and Michael’s stomach flops around, nerves, nausea and absolute terror making him feel a little sick.

“I’ll show Ash,” Calum murmurs. He smiles then. “Luke’s going to love it, you know.”

Michael huffs a small, darkly amused laugh. “He just won’t know that it’s about him.”

“He will someday,” Calum says firmly, expression certain. “He will, Michael.”

Michael says nothing, just shrugs, and turns to Luke’s door with a deep breath, curling a hand around the door handle. As Calum treads gently down the hallway to Ashton’s bedroom, Michael turns the handle and slowly pushes the door open.

Light spills over him, chasing away the shadows and he walks in, peaking around the door.

Luke is awake, hanging upside down on the bed, headphones over his ears, air drumming to the beat of whatever song he’s listening to with his eyes closed. His toes bop along. For a moment, Michael stands in the semi-open doorway and just watches him, a small smile curling his lips upward as Luke’s face twists through a range of facial expressions as the music weaves, arms flailing up and down.

Eventually, Michael realises that he should stop lurking like a coward and steps fully into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Luke doesn’t notice his presence.

“You know,” Michael says finally, after a few more minutes have ticked by, “if this were a horror movie, you’d be dead.”

Still nothing.

Eventually, Michael just rolls his eyes and walks over and yanks the headphones off Luke’s head.

There’s a spectacular scream, a dramatic flail topped off with a struggle that ends up with Luke’s long legs tangled in his duvet, torso twisted upward, and wide, stunned eyes staring up at Michael.

Michael stands up, headphones hanging limp in his hands, and just laughs.

An unimpressed glare settles into Luke’s features, eyebrows scrunched and blue eyes glittering under the incandescent lights. “Fuck you.”

“I wonder how you walk in a straight line sometimes.” With another spluttering laugh, Michael tosses the headphones onto the bed beside Luke. “If you’re done, I’ve got something for you to listen to.”

Luke untangles himself with surprising efficiency, sitting up with excitement obvious in his eyes. “You finished it!”

Michael nods, pursing his lips. “Yeah. So um…you wanna hear it?”

Luke just holds out his hand for the phone that Michael hasn’t stopped fiddling with since leaving the studio.

He still hesitates, fingers tight around the case. “Just…it’s not a happy song, okay?” Luke waggles his fingers, watching him expectantly, and Michael shakes his head, takes a deep breath and sets the phone into Luke’s open palm. “It’s called _Jet Black Heart.”_

“Not every song needs to be happy,” Luke says, plugging in his headphone, and lifting his gaze to meet Michael’s, lips quirked to the side. “Broken Home and Inflatable are pretty fucking sad. I like the title, it’s poetic in a metaphorical way. It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes out, settling on to the floor and leaning back against the wardrobe doors. “Nice.”

Luke grins at him as he slips the headphones over his hair, settles them over his ears. “You ready?”

Honestly? No. Michael isn’t ready at all and his throat is thick and his stomach is a mess of nerves and the chance of him throwing up is high with the vibrating tingle crawling under his skin but he nods at Luke.

“Press play,” he says and drops his head back against the wooden panel behind him, closing his eyes.

Silence settles around them and Michael tries to quieten the relentless buzz in his brain, untangle the knots in his stomach but it’s hopeless and eventually gives up, swallowing past the wedge in his throat.

It shouldn’t mean so much, not to this dizzying, nauseating level. It’s just a song, it’s _just_ a song. But it’s not. Michael knows that this is one of the most important songs he’s ever written…and maybe will ever write. He just hopes that Luke isn’t scared by the peek into the miserable, tangled chaos of his mind.

A quiet gasp makes his eyes fly open and Michael lifts his head up, only to catch Luke’s bright, glittering eyes filled with shock.

His heart squeezes painfully.

Michael opens his mouth to speak but Luke holds up one hand, pressing the other over his own mouth, and drops his eyes to the carpet.

Right.

Another minute or two ticks by before Luke pulls off the headphones, setting them on the bed beside him and breathing out heavily.

“Michael,” he whispers, lifting watery eyes. “It’s awesome, I…your _voice—_ ” He seems at a loss for words, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “It’s brilliant, I love it.”

The sigh of relief that curls out of Michael is stopped short by Luke’s next words.

“The lyrics…” He trails off, fiddling with Michael’s phone for a moment before he looks up, eyes shadowed, mouth twisted down. “Are you—is everything okay? Is it, uh…is it about anyone?”

Michael struggles with the breath caught in his throat, staring into Luke’s clear blue eyes, trying not to let out the ugly laugh building in his chest. He quirks his lips, forcing his shoulders to relax.

“Yeah, m’fine.”

There’s no reason to answer that last question.

Luke’s eyebrows draw down and he stands up, making Michael’s heart stop in his chest when he walks over and folds down onto the carpet beside Michael, leaning back against the wardrobe.

“At the risk of sounding like a Tumblr post, who hurt you?” Luke asks quietly, settling their shoulders together. “Those are some dark lyrics.”

_Joke’s on you! It was inspired by you, just like every other song! Isn’t that hilarious?_

Michael looks away from Luke’s knee then, dropping his head back against the wood of the wardrobe door, and stares at the ceiling. A smile curls his mouth despite the buzzing that makes him want to crawl out of his skin. “It’s my head, I guess. Just stuff in my head. No one hurt me, Luke.”

There’s a small huff. “Would you tell me even if someone did?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Michael says, nudging Luke’s shoulder gently. _Not if it was you._ “You might be annoying sometimes but you’re still my best friend.”

He almost jumps ten metres into the sky when Luke shuffles down and rests his head on Michael’s shoulder. Freezing in place, Michael sucks in a breath before he breathes out slowly and shuffles until Luke is comfortable. Michael loves him so much, this stupid, tall boy thinking he’s still the same size as he was five years ago.

“Can’t believe we hated each other five years ago,” Luke says, chuckling. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you, you know, I’m glad we don’t hate each other anymore.”

Michael wants to die.

“Yeah,” he says, instead of the _I hated you for about six months before I started falling in love with you_ that surges up. “Life would be weird without you too.”

“Hey,” Luke says after a moment. “All that stuff in your head…you can talk to me any time, you know that, right?”

Chest growing tight with fondness, Michael squeezes Luke’s arm. “I know. Thanks.”

Luke burrows into Michael side with a yawn, and Michael feels the smile pressed into his bare arm like a brand being seared into his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that was it. It's super long and it's seemingly disjointed in places but it'll all make sense in the end ;) It's not too hard to guess ahaha my plots aren't complicated. 
> 
> ANYWAYS, I hope you enjoyed it and I hope I didn't disappoint! Lots of love to anyone who's still reading and to anyone who read this for the first time <3 
> 
> Drop me a comment whether you loved it or hated it or fell somewhere in between. I always love feedback so please, it would mean the wooorrldddd 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) Hopefully the next chapter won't be too far behind!


	11. The way it hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I KNOW it's been like three bloody months AND I'M SO SORRY. I hope you guys don't hate me >_< But here's chapter 11! I really hope you enjoy it...and the things that happen. I'm sorry if it's a little rushed but the next chapter will be a little longer :) 
> 
> I'm so so sorry again but, enjoy!

They did it. They fucking did it.

Three months in a house and songs stacked up from months on the road, they’d made an album that they were proud of. An album that came from them; their souls, their hearts, their pain.

Michael remembers the tears in Ashton’s eyes when they had first played Broken Home to him, the restless anger coursing through him after an argument with Bryana that had him in the recording booth past midnight behind the drum kit and smashing Castaway in one take, the cheer exhilaration of recording Carry On by the ocean.

They’d done it.

They’d done it and now it’s out there finally for the world to experience.

Michael just hopes their fans would love it as much as he does, would love the words and melodies that had consumed them for months until it was perfect, until listening to the album at midnight meant tears and relieved laughter, breathless hugs and laying on the floor till morning broke on the fading notes of Carry On.

The album goes to number one in so many countries within hours and Michael lays on the floor, an arm around Calum, his head resting on Luke’s stomach, Ashton’s head on his thigh, as the numbers roll in, and laughs so hard in a fit of hysteria, he feels like exploding.

The helplessness he had felt when he’d dropped out of school is slowly fading away. He isn’t useless. He’s worth something. And even though his head is still a mess, he wouldn’t trade this life, this job, his passion, for anything in the world.

 

*

 

His laughter drains right out of him, unable to look away as a smiling, glowing, _beautiful_ Luke leans down and kisses her.

The smile that pulls at Michael’s mouth is small and helpless, gaze roving over Luke as his heart thuds against his ribs to the beat of Ashton’s drums echoing around them. Luke laughs, throwing his head back, eyes scrunched up and Michael can hear his laughter ringing in his ears, squeaky and captivating, despite the music thumping around them. Luke leans back down and Michael follows the curl of his fingers into the long tresses of her hair.

 

_Cruel_

_The way you treat me like a stranger_

 

As Hey Everybody fades into Talk Dirty around them and cheers rise, people crowding onto the dance floor, Luke is still kissing his girlfriend and Michael looks away with an aching emptiness in his chest.

 

_Cruel_

_When you’re looking like that, oh_

 

“Mike!”

He startles, jerking back, as Jace’s excited voice yells his name and suddenly he’s jumping on him, cheeks flushed with alcohol and smile bright, dimples cutting into his cheeks.

“You fucking did it, man!” Jace yells, “You fucking did it!”  

Michael feels himself grin back, arms thrown around Jace’s shoulders for a tight hug, letting Jace mess up his hair with a fond roll of his eyes.

Jace presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, just below his lips, pulling back with pride shining in his eyes. “You did it.”

Michael casts one last glance back at Luke before lets himself get swept back up in the adrenalin, the relief and exhilaration of the album release.

_Cruel_

_The way you touch her when you kiss her_

_Take my endless summer and turn it into winter_

 

“Yeah, we fucking did,” he says, forcing a smile that softens into something genuine as Jace’s eyes twinkle at him.

He follows Jace to the bar and lets himself get accosted by Calum as his best friend pushes another shot into his hands with shining eyes and dimpling cheeks.

Tonight is for him. For them. Tonight is for what they’ve accomplished together as four best friends from the far-flung wastelands—according to Luke’s dad, anyway—of Sydney who just love music.  

Jace’s bright grin on one side and Calum’s grounding, somewhat tipsy, presence on the other, Michael tosses the shot right back, wincing as it burns down his throat. It settles, hot and enticing at the pit of his stomach.

“C’mon, you fucks,” he slurs through a leering grin, lifting the empty glass and slamming it onto the bar top. “Another round!”

Calum cheers and in turn, it barrels through the party like the Mexican wave, getting louder and louder until the room rings with it.

Jace thumps him on the back with a resounding _whoop_ and signals the bartender.

Tonight is not a night he should be thinking about what he doesn’t have. Something he would never have. Tonight is a night where he should take unabashed advantage of the free bar tab and get blindingly drunk.

Because tonight? Tonight, they had taken over the world.

_A little twist of the knife, yeah_

_A little salt in the cut, yeah_

_A little thorn in the side and it stings like hell_

 

*

 

He’s drunk. He’s so drunk that he is definitely starting to see double.

 _Ooooooh_ , look, two Calums. He likes Calum. Calum is nice. One Calum is good but two Calums…two Calums is better than the best. The Calums have a very pretty smile.

“You have a very pretty smile,” he says seriously. “Both of you.”

The Calums’ pretty smiles disappear into a snort and Michael mourns their loss.

“No,” he mumbles, waving at the faces. “Smile again. S’nice. You guys look nice when you smile. Pretty.”

“Alright, come on, Casanova, it’s time to go home.”

Before Michael can take the arms that the Calums offer, swaying as he pushes off the counter, something—an arm??—curls around his waist and a familiar voice echoes in his ear.

“S’okay, dude, bro, pal, Calum, Cal Pal, I’ve got ‘im. Go cele-brate, m’gonna tak’im home.”

Michael, anchored against a warm body, latches on, drooping. “Smells good,” he mumbles, pushing his nose against warm skin. His lips brush upward. “S’nice.”

More fuzzy words are exchanged above him before there’s a gentle tug on his waist. Michael just follows, setting his feet carefully one behind the other until he’s sliding into a car.

 

*

 

They stumble in through the door, Michael hanging on to Jace—he’d barely realised who was taking him home in the taxi ride, just managing when the other boy had laughed—as his legs refuse to hold his weight.

“You ‘kay?”

Michael hums, content in the pleasant, blurry swirl of the world around him. “You’re hot,” he mumbles absently, fingers pressing into a hip bone.

“Yeah, you are too,” comes slurred into his ear, warm hands sliding up his arms. A brush of lips against the shell of his ear makes Michael shudder, leaning into the touch as his hands curl to hold tight. A low thrum of arousal sears through his veins. “Beautiful.”

Michael smiles and turns his head, catching warm lips in a bruising kiss. Jace melts into it with a groan that makes Michael want bad, _bad_ things, nails digging into Michael’s jacket.

The lazy contentment of the alcohol vanishes beneath the pyroclastic flow of desire that washes through him. It makes him grin against Jace’s mouth and push their hips together, earning a breathless grunt.

“Fuck me,” he groans into the humid air between them.

Jace curls a hand around Michael’s hard cock in response and presses a biting kiss to Michael’s hammering pulse.

 

*

 

When his eyes crack open, Michael immediately screws them shut again as his head pounds to the rhythm of his heartbeat, a nauseating throb that makes his whole body shudder.

“Oh _fuck…”_ he groans, and tries to roll over but finds himself pinned under a solid, immovable weight. “What…”

The moment Michael realises that he’s completely naked, ass aching in that tell-tale way, and that the object lying on him is a person, panic pours through him, heartrate rocketing up.

When the person next to him finally stirs after seven excruciating minutes and lifts their head, Michael feels the blood drain from his face.

Oh.

“Jace?” He says quietly.

There’s an exhausted groan. “Huh?”

“Jace,” He tries again. “Please tell me you’re wearing clothes.”

_“Mike?”_

Jace’s confused frown sends a ripple of _oh-shit-fuck-no-no-no_ down his spine and it worsens, the pit in his stomach growing, when the sheets fall away from Jace’s shirtless torso and highlights sharp hipbones and washboard abs.

Oh.

The same horror is quickly echoed on Jace’s face as he realises what Michael is referring to. “Shit.”

Michael sits, frozen, as Jace scrambles out of bed and pulls on a pair of boxers, eyes falling on a taut ass and muscled thighs, the split-second flash of a cock.

 _Jesus._ Michael’s headache worsens.

“It’ll be okay. I’m sorry we…that I… _Fuck—_ ” Jace turns around and crumples a little, holding his head with a wince. “Ow.”

“Go. Please.”

“Mike, we need to talk about—”

 _“I said, go!”_ Michael explodes, spinning around, chest heaving, already feeling the leaden guilt squeeze painfully in his chest.

Jace’s eyes widen.

A beat. They stare at each other, a space between two heartbeats, and another. There’s shine in those blue eyes, shadowed and hurt. Jace grabs his phone off the floor before Michael can untangle the knot in his throat.

“Shut the front door when you leave,” Jace says quietly.

Michael is too late to stop him as he leaves his own bedroom.

The door shuts gently behind him. Further down the hallway, the bathroom door slams with a force that shakes Michael right down to his bones.

What the fuck has he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Don't hate me too much? Jace and Michael weren't going to sleep together in the beginning but I was talking to Jenna and she was adamant it happen, so once again, I'm torturing my poor characters...
> 
> Will they make up? Will it fall apart? Who knows ;) You'll find out! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always <3 It means so much, every single one of you that stand behind this fic :)


	12. Faded Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK A A FEW WEEKS LATER. IT'S A MIRACLE.
> 
> Anyways. I have a few things to say first haha 
> 
> So originally when I posted this, it was November 2015, and I've been writing this for over a year, considering that it's now 2017. 
> 
> But when I started out with chapter one, it wasn't going to be the monster of a fic that it's turned out to be now. It was supposed to be a birthday present for one of my best friends in January of 2016. But, since it spiralled, I never gifted it. BUT, it's been over a bloody year and I suck, so I'm gifting it this year instead, even though it's still unfinished and only just over halfway through. 
> 
> Loretta, IM SORRY DHSBSJ IM SORRY I TRIED AND I FAILED and I didn't want to say anything till I finished but IM AWFUL AND MY BRAIN HATES ME..BUT I SWEAR ILL FINISH IT THIS YEAR. I SWEAR ON MY LIFE. And if I don't...I am a horrible friend. 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY and thank you for patiently putting up with me for all these years. Here's to many more (and here's to me calming down as we get older? Might be a long shot) ❤❤ 
> 
> SO, to everyone else, I hope the chapter is alright! ENJOY!

Sleep is elusive. Night after night of insomnia bred from nightmare-plagued sleep and Michael’s temper is on the shortest leash when morning breaks on the back of a third restless night.

“Mikey, have you taken my—”

“I haven’t taken any-fucking-thing from you, alright, fuck off!”  

After that outburst, he spends as much time away from Luke as he can while they do album promo and interviews.  As much time as he can without raising eyebrows, anyway. It’s not easy, not when he can hear himself moan Luke’s name as he pushes his face into Jace’s neck. Because that was a thing that had apparently happened. He’d actually—

He had fucked up royally, that’s what he’d done.

Luke’s shocked expression that day had lasted until he and Ashton had been cornered by Calum about his fight with Jace. Then it had just morphed into concern, blue eyes following him as he sulked in silence between interviews and forced laughter during interviews. He only manages a genuine laugh when recounting the story about his tragic fall at the Radio One Teen Awards. Luke hadn’t looked away once when he had to retell the awkward story about the fire incident, the heat of his silent gaze flitting over the side of Michael’s face.

So yeah, Michael’s nerves are wearing thin by the time Calum comes to find him in his hotel room, six days after the…breakup with Jace, a few hours after taping the Late Late Show.

“Did you and Jace—”

“Leave me alone,” he mutters, stabbing the buttons of the controller, eyes fixed on his laptop screen.

A sigh. “You need to talk to him. It’s been a week, Michael.”

Michael ignores that. The unforgiving clench behind his navel hadn’t lightened since Jace had walked out of that room.

“C’mon, man. Ignoring me isn’t gonna help and ignoring him won’t either.” Calum comes to stand beside him, voice firm but annoyingly placating. “It was an accident, alright, both of you were drunk. Talk and sort this out before we go to Bali.”

“He’s not coming.”

Calum scoffs, leaning his hip against the table. “Yeah, because you’re acting like a fucking coward. He’s done a lot of shit for you, don’t act like a child.”

Michael throws his controller onto the table top, tears of his headphones and rounds on Calum with a glare. “Which part of _leave me alone_ didn’t you understand?”

Calum’s dark eyes watch him patiently. “Yelling at me isn’t an answer, Mike.”

 _“Gee,_ really? But I feel so much better already.”

“Don’t make me send Ashton.”

That threat strikes home because god fucking knows, Ashton is persistent and creative when it comes to having important conversations. _Gotta keep our relationships functioning, ya know,_ he’d say.

“Gimme one reason I should talk to him, ‘cos I’m feeling less and less like sitting here for this conversation.”

Calum bares his teeth in a grin, eyes lit up with amusement and a hint of self-satisfaction. “Well…” He gets to his feet. “Oi!” Michael’s jaw drops as Calum pokes his head out of Michael’s bedroom door. “Jace, get in here!”

“Wait—no! No, fuck you, Calum! I don’t need this!” Michael yells, scrambling to his feet. The chair goes skidding back on the carpeted floor. “I don’t want to—”

His words dry up as Jace appears in the doorway looking hunched and jittery, with his glasses—bloody aesthetic nonsense—perched on his nose and sleeves of his hoodie tucked over his knuckles.

“Hey.”

Calum makes wild, suggestive gestures behind Jace’s back, threatening to behead Michael, before shutting the door.

He sucks in a breath and rubs his temples. “Hey.” A few seconds go by before he sighs. “Guess we should talk, then.”

The tense lines across Jace’s forehead soften. The marginal drop of his shoulders signal relief. “Thank _God_.”

Michael grimaces and braces himself.

“Okay, I’m really sorry—”

“I didn’t mean to yell—”

 A tiny laugh leaks out of Jace. “You go.”

“Right.” Michael swallows. Breathes in and breathes out. Squares his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, and,” he hesitates, fingers tangled in the holes of his jumper, “and I’m sorry about…fuck, I’m sorry I called you _Luke,_ okay? It’s—you were right, about _everything_.”

“Maybe, but,” Jace says quietly, sitting on the edge of bed, hands braced on either side of his knees. His voice is strained when he speaks next. “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

Michael startles, head snapping up to stare at the haunted look that crosses the other boy’s face. “What?”

Jace cringes into himself. He looks miserable. “I’m _sorry,_ I didn’t…I wasn’t as drunk as you were, I just, I shouldn’t have let myself—”

“Oi, wait a second.” Michael crosses room, sinking down onto the floor in front of Jace, a frown creasing his forehead. “Take _advantage_ of me? Jace, I _wanted_ it.” When Jace doesn’t look up at him, Michael lets out a hard breath. “I don’t remember everything but I’m pretty fucking sure I literally _asked_ you to fuck me, alright? And you may not have been as drunk as I was, but you were drunk. People make shit decisions on a normal day but we had a shit-tonne of shots that night.”

Jace is watching him with wide, uncertain eyes behind the hair hanging in front of his face. “But—”

“Look.” Michael sighs. He reaches out to squeeze Jace’s fingers. “I’m sorry for how I reacted, I really am. Sure, we shouldn’t have done it and I’ve been dying every day since because yes, _yes_ you were right and I can barely look at Luke anymore, but…most of it is, it’s just guilt, alright, I—”

A warm touch to his jaw stops him mid-rant and he flounders under the weight of pale blue eyes.

“Basically we both regret it, but it happened and we’re sorry for whatever that followed, is that it?”

Michael heaves a breath and falls backward onto his butt, exhausted. He laughs lightly, incredulously. “Yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s it.”

Jace smiles, a small thing that just quirk his lips upward. “You like ice cream, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Brilliant.” Jace is on his feet in seconds, holding a hand out to Michael. “C’mon. There’s a sick place near Forty-Second that has _the_ _best_ mint-chocolate gelato in the fucking _world.”_

Out in the hallway, they run into Luke. Jace’s grip is vice-like on his fingers.

Luke’s stunned expression morphs into grudging relief, even as his eyes turn icy as they flicker over Jace. “You two made up?”

Michael nods. “We’re going out for ice cream. Tell Calum that Jay’s still coming to Bali, yeah?”

“Yeah,” is all Luke says.

Jace tugs him down the hall before anything else can be said, muttering under his breath. “Fucker. Who does he think he is to judge me without knowing anything, how dare he…”

Michael snorts softly and lets himself be pushed into the elevator.

*****

Now, Michael regrets a fair few things in life and today, Halloween 2015, is rising rapidly up that list. He regrets not eloping with Jace, he regrets that these leopard-print leggings are riding up his butt in the worst wedgie imaginable, and he regrets ever agreeing to let each other pick their ‘80s glam rock outfits because Ashton definitely had it in for Michael when he picked out Luke’s costume.

Definitely.

Because while Michael is hiding behind the long fringe of his black wig and lacing up chunky black boots in a corner of the chaotic dressing room, Luke is on the other side of the room in his usual skin-tight jeans and a fucking leopard-print _crop-top_ that very likely came with Michael’s leggings.

That wide strip of pale skin between jeans and crop-top is _toying_ with Michael’s edged nerves. Even more as the flashes of that night with Jace plague him, guilt leaden in the pit of his stomach when he finds himself thinking _Luke_ instead of _Jace,_ hears the inescapable echo of himself moaning _Luke,_ sees the flash of hurt in lust-hazed blue eyes in a mirage.

So, as Luke ties a sash of yet more leopard-print material around his hips, just above his jeans, Michael rubs at the smudged black shadow around his eyes and drops his head back against the wall after finishing with his shoes.

He really hates Ashton. He had been _nice_ to Ashton, his costume was so easy, and _this_ is how Ashton repays him?

“Why the fuck did you pick a fucking _bodysuit_ for me?” Calum growls as he stalks out of the bathroom, one hand down the front of his flared jeans, trying to adjust himself around the black net bodysuit with an irritated look on his face.

Luke’s cackle is nothing short of wicked, grinning ear-to-ear from where he’s leant forward into the mirror, a black pencil held in his hand. “Because I was right. You look hot.”

Calum glares. “My dick is literally falling out the side.”

“Oh my _god!_ ” Ashton bursts out laughing, spitting out a mouthful of tea. He grabs a towel to wipe himself down. “You didn’t tuck?”

“Do I look like a fucking drag queen to you?”

Michael snorts, sitting up and looking his best friend up and down, taking in the shoulder-length black wig, the black flared pants and the mesh suit that highlighted Calum’s muscles in all the right places. “You’re halfway there. All you gotta do is lose the pants and get Kelsey to do your makeup.”

He gets a frustrated, dirty look shot at him and smirks in return.

“Fuck you. I’m not duck-taping my dick and balls for a two-hour performance.”

Ashton’s long fingers tap on his mug and his expression flickers. “I can help, if you want.”

“Nope.” Calum shakes his head, flopping onto the couch with a grimace. “No fucking way. Ugh, fuck, I’m wearing my boxers.”

Ashton sighs heavily. “That’ll ruin the line.”

Luke yelps from the mirror as Calum grumbles and when Michael looks up, he’s got a hand cupped over his left eye, right eye also tearing. The eyeliner pencil clatters onto the dressing table.

“Did you just poke yourself with that?” He asks, chuckling. When Luke shoots him a teary-eyed glare, Michael sighs and pushes to his feet. “Gimme the damn eyeliner, you noob.”

Luke grumbles under his breath as he tosses the pencil at him. “Shut up, Gerard Way.”

“Not an insult.” Michael chuckles, twirling the pencil between his fingers as he ushers Luke to sit on the arm of the couch and tips his chin up gently with his other hand. Luke fidgets just as Michael raises the pencil to the left eye.

He flicks an earlobe. “Stay still.”

“Don’t blind me,” Luke mutters, opening his eyes.

He has to suck in a sharp breath as watery _blueblueblue_ eyes stare up at him from such proximity. It’s like falling into a vortex, dragged down in a daze into the depths of a tiny black hole.  It feels like all the air has been punched right out of his lungs.

Michael clears his throat and uses the edge of Luke’s sash to wipe away the tears, drying his cheeks slowly. Luke’s eyes don’t move off him, but he says nothing, just watching as Michael does what he needs to. He steels his nerves, grits his teeth and focuses on the slow glide of the pencil along Luke’s lower eyelids, valiantly trying to steady his shaking hands as Luke’s soft breaths warm the sensitive skin of his inner wrist.

“Do me after?” Calum calls, shattering Michael’s concentration.

He lowers the pencil with a sigh and opens his mouth to reply when an amused drawl comes from behind him.

“Replacing me already?”

Michael’s head snaps up and he spins around to the door, a grin spreading across his face as a retort to Calum dies on his lips. _“Jace?”_

Jace steps forward, letting the door shut behind him slowly, and picks his way across to pull Michael into a brief, tight hug, a kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth, before he pushes Michael away, steps back, and crosses his arms. He lets out a low whistle, eyeing him up and down.

“ _Dayum_ , Clifford, I think eighties glam rock is your true calling. That smudged eyeliner is fucking brilliant and I could probably literally bounce a quarter off your ass.”

Michael rolls his eyes to hide the heat the floods his cheeks. “Shut up. What’re you doing here?”

“What, I couldn’t just miss my boyfriend?” Jace asks, eyes wide and innocent.

“You flew five hours across the country because you _missed_ me?” Michael teases, suddenly well aware of the three sets of eyes on them. He can feel Luke’s glare burning into his back. “What’re you actually doing here?”

Jace snorts. “Fine, don’t say I didn’t try to romance you. I have a shoot tomorrow in Brooklyn, remember?”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Michael lies, making a face at Jace, who snorts lightly.

“I just dropped in to say hi,” he says, “and to remind you to talk to Larry because I’m sure he wants to know how things are going with the thing. It’s been a while.”

Michael almost gives the game away, confused for a split second because who the fuck is Larry and what _thing_ , before he realises what Jace is doing.

“Oh!” He groans, slapping his forehead for emphasis. Jace coughs to hide his laughter. “Fuck, yeah, I totally forgot about that, thanks, Jay.” He raises an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have called him yourself?”

Jace stares at him, eyes wide, perplexed. “Because I can just do that?”

Michael grins. “They— _he_ likes you, and besides, you have his number for a reason, right?”

“I have his number because he has a soft spot for you.”

“What can I say, I’m extremely loveable,” Michael says, tongue in cheek.

Jace makes an unamused noise and sighs dramatically. “Should’ve run off with José when I had the chance.”

Michael bursts out laughing. Jace should’ve taken up acting instead of modelling because this is _gold_.

“Bitch, _please._ He may have look like he could bench press a whale but he didn’t have my charming personality and brilliant wit.”

“Charming,” Jace says dryly, lips twitching. “Mikey, you almost broke your nose trying to put your jeans on.”

“We agreed to never mention that again and besides, _you_ told me it was endearing.” Michael crosses his arms. “Don’t act like you’re above it, you shit.”

Jace’s eyes suddenly flicker behind Michael and a mega-watt grin spreads across his face. He looks back at Michael, eyes glittering as his smile softens at the corners. Michael bites the inside of his cheek, curious, wondering what was behind him that sparked that.

“Well…” Jace drops his head and shuffles his feet, convincingly sheepish. “I did get you something, as an early birthday present since I won’t see you till after your birthday.”

Delight spreads through Michael and it transfers onto his face in an excited grin. “Seriously?”

Jace pulls out a small box from the pocket of his jeans and holds it out without a word.

 _“Twenty-two minutes till you’re on!”_ echoes from outside the dressing room, but Michael only has eyes for the contents of the mysterious velvet box as he cracks it open.

“Proposing to me alre—” A laugh bursts out of him, interrupting himself, and Michael curls his fingers around the necklace and pulls it out of the box. “I fucking hate you.”  

Jace is grinning at him, eyebrows waggling. “Like it?”

Michael brushes a finger over the engraved dog tag, shaking his head as he laughs helplessly. _The Clone Wars._ The other side reads, _Happy 20 th, Jace xx _

He crosses the space between them and goes to hug Jace when he realises that the others are still in the room and hastily presses his mouth to Jace’s in a quick kiss. Jace rolls his eyes affectionately when he pulls away.

“I love it.”

Jace cheers, pulling the chain from Michael’s grip and looping it around his neck. “FYI, I’m definitely the better looking one,” he says under his breath. The tag falls onto the black shirt and Jace tucks it inside, patting his chest. The flash of his eyes up at Michael is mischievous. “Right?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Michael drawls wryly, lips quirking to the side. “The hottest guy I know.”

There’s a growl from behind him and Michael twists his neck to see Luke storming off into the bathroom. Ah.

The door slams.

Michael blinks at the sudden, ringing silence. “Um…” What the _hell_ was that?

“You’re an idiot,” Jace murmurs. Michael snaps back to gape at him. “But I’ve gotta go so we’ll deal with that later. Break a leg, yeah?”

“I…yeah, fine. Thanks, Jay.”

As Jace pulls away from the hug with a ruffle of the wig and heads for the door, Calum is in front of Michael before he can even move, pulling the chain out of his shirt.

“Oh my god,” he mutters and drops the dog tag. “You honestly should just date him,” he snorts under his breath.

Michael chuckles. “Shut _up_ , Calum,” he says through clenched teeth.

“What’s it say?” Ashton asks as he fixes the blonde wig on his head.

“The Clone Wars,” Michael says, grinning as Ashton snorts.

“I’m not even gonna ask,” the eldest says as he grabs a bandana and heads for the door. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

Michael catches Calum’s eyes and ignores the pointed eyebrow arch in Ashton’s direction.

_Nope._

 

*

 

Luke comes out of the bathroom with five minutes to stage and by the time Michael catches up to him, he’s all smiles and bright flashes of black-lined, flame-blue eyes under the dim lights of side-stage as he chats to Elvis Duran.

So, Michael grabs his first guitar, punches Ashton in the shoulder as he walks past for good measure and sends a quick, silent prayer to the heavens to stop him from saying anything embarrassing on stage tonight.

An hour later, he has no faith left in God or any other higher being because he crumples under the heady allure of Luke’s stage presence.

“I’d like to talk about how luscious my hair is,” Luke says as they near the end of the set, long fingers curling around his microphone after he fluffs his long, blonde wig.

“I’d like to talk about your little snail trail, that’s pretty,” comes tumbling out of Michael’s mouth before he can stop it, and despite the mortification that he’s just told millions of people that he thinks his best friend’s _happy trail_ is _pretty_ , he takes a deep breath and rolls with it now that it’s out there.

Because this is what it’s come down to. _Thanks a fucking bunch, God. If you’re up there, you suck._

Michael can see Calum on the other side of the stage, hiding the pained expression behind the hair falling around his face, and Luke’s response—a quiet _hey, thanks, man_ —is overwhelmed by the screams that erupt from the audience.

He’s just thankful that Ashton only flashes him an amused look before he corrals their attention and segues into talking about the upcoming MSG show.

 

*

 

Jace texts him barely two hours later.

 

_From: Jace_

_You just told everyone that you think Luke’s happy trail is PRETTY_

_There’s no coming back from this, dude_

_I’d be jealous but…_

_#muke5eva_

 

Michael vehemently wishes that Jace didn’t find so much depraved amusement in keeping track of the fans on Tumblr.

 

*

 

“Are you serious?”

Michael bites his lip and keeps his gaze on his phone as Luke turns his incredulous glare on Ashton.

“He’s Michael’s _boyfriend,_ we can’t just not let him come!” Ashton says as he types on his laptop. Calum makes a noise of agreement beside him. “Besides, he’s already asked Jace and anyway dude, nearly everyone’s significant others are coming.”

“He’s been around for like two months, how significant is that?” Luke says under his breath as he turns away and Michael can’t help but snort.

He looks up, catching Luke’s attention with a poke. “You don’t have to like him,” he says, shrugging. “And I know that you don’t, which, I don’t understand _why_ because he’s—anyway, if you get to bring _her_ —if everyone else gets to being someone, I get to bring Jay.”

Michael raises an eyebrow when Luke’s expression wavers.

Calum speaks up from his usual position, plastered to Ashton’s side. “I’m not bringing anyone.”

“Well, maybe Roy can fill in,” Ashton mutters.

Michael is taken aback by the light undertone of bitterness he hears. What the hell is _that_ about?

But Calum doesn’t seem to have noticed, lit up like an excited child as he grabs his phone off the table and presumably texts Roy, even though he’s already on the list. Ashton is a long line of tension, face impassive, as he continues to email and text travel agents, management and people coming on the trip.

He makes a mental note to find Ashton later.

“But does it have to be _Jace,_ though?” Luke asks suddenly.

“You mean, does it have to be the guy that I’m _dating_?” Michael retorts, ignoring Calum’s grin. “Who else would I bring, genius?”

Luke scowls, dropping onto a dining chair and crossing his arms as he sits back. “There’s a world with seven billion people out there.”

“He’s my _boyfriend.”_

“He’s an _asshole.”_

Michael bites his tongue on a laugh. “Yeah, exactly. So am I.”

Ashton snickers from the other of the dining table. “What is your problem with him, dude? He’s fucking hilarious.”

“Oh sure,” Luke grumbles. “Hilarious.”

Michael sucks on his lower lip for a moment, considering, before reaching forward to flick Luke’s arm. “I’m not gonna forget about you, or like, ditch you just ‘cos he’s there, you know that right?”

The way Luke’s head snaps up and eyes burn show all too clearly that Michael’s hit the nail on the head. He can’t help but chuckle as a warmth clenches in the hollow of his chest.  

“Oh my god, you _idiot._ What’re we, like, twelve-year-old girls?”

Luke shuffles down in his seat with a petulant curl to his mouth. “Fuck you.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” Michael teases, grinning. “Should I make a pie chart and show you how I’ll divide up my attention? Should I wear a hat that says _Luke Hemmings’ best friend: do not steal because he’s a jealous and possessive little shit?_ ”

“I really hate you,” Luke groans, as raucous laughter explodes from Ashton and Calum.

Michael throws his head back and joins in. “Now, now, I thought you said you were glad we didn’t hate each other anymore.”

Luke throws him an ugly scowl. “I take it back. I hate you with every fibre of my being.”   

“But _Lewi,”_ Michael pouts, blinking, making his eyes big and wide, “I thought you loved me.”

The corners of Luke’s lips twitch and Michael punches the air, crowing with satisfaction.

“That’s cheating,” Tall, Blonde and Stupidly Adorable says with an emphatic pout. “You can’t cheat.”

Michael arches an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Oh yeah? _Watch me.”_

He lunges out of his chair and pulls Luke into a hug, hiding a grin into his collarbone when Luke sighs heavily and wraps his arms around Michael.

“For the record,” Luke mumbles into his ear, “This is coercion and abuse of best friend benefits.”

Michael sucks in a lungful of Luke’s scent and immediately wishes he hadn’t because it’s warm, expensive and so very _Luke_. “I always get my way.”

Luke shoves him away, albeit gently, and flashes him an exasperated look. “Why did I ever agree to start a band with you.”

“Because my dashing good looks and mad guitar skillz dazzled your teeny little fourteen-year-old self?”

 _“Can you two stop flirting for two fucking seconds so we can finish organising this shit?!”_ Ashton thunders suddenly.

Silence rings around them.

Michael shares a bewildered look with Luke and Calum. “Uh,” he says, “Ash, are you okay?”

Ashton’s expression breaks open for a second before it darkens once again and he turns to his laptop, lips pursed tight. “Fine. We just need to get this done.”

He clearly needs to talk to Ashton after this.

“You and Jace are sharing a room, right?” Ashton asks after a moment, looking up.

Michael shrugs. “Obviously.”

Luke’s scowl doesn’t go unnoticed and he flashes him a cheeky grin. “Stop pouting, you baby. You’re sharing with your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well. We haven’t shared a room since 2013.”

Michael snorts, despite the twist of fondness in his stomach.

“We grew up, dude,” Calum says, laughing. “Deal with it.”

“I’m still nineteen,” Luke grumbles.

“Any other day and you’d give us shit for calling you young,” Ashton says absently, typing rapidly.

Michael nudges Luke’s shoulder, grinning. “We can share on tour, if you’re so desperate for my company.” Simultaneous _looks_ from Calum and Ashton go ignored. “I know you miss me.”

“Fuck you very much.”

“Yeah. Ya miss me,” Michael says, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back against the chair.

Luke jumps up and stomps away, throwing a middle finger over his head.

“You’re incorrigible,” Calum says, shaking his head at Michael. “You tease him so much, I’d be worried that you didn’t like him, except for the fact that I _know_ you do.”

Ashton pipes up. “And if anyone else dare mess with him, you’ll bite their fucking heads off.”

“Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS PLEASE???? I need opinions, I'm begging >_<
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL <3 <3 Thank you for reading!!


	13. Shallow waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might just be a miracle. It really might. Here's chapter 13????
> 
> And making cameos for the duration of the Bali trip, introducing Alex DeLeon, Matt Pauling, Brian Dales, Roy English, Pete Wentz, Josephine Skriver, Crystal Leigh and Bryana Holly. I did some research but I can't promise that it's extensive. Besides, fitting too many people into fics is messy and complicated. So...bare with me.
> 
> Enjoy!

The moment the entire group meets up at the villa, it’s complete chaos.

Michael loses track of Jace almost immediately, accosted by Alex and pulled over to where Matt and Brian have already set up camp by the poolside, cocktails and all. He laughs as he trips over Matt’s foot, tumbling into Brian and nearly sending Alex headlong into the pool.

“Oi, you idiot!” Alex yells, grabbing Matt as he goes.

“I’ve missed you guys too,” he mumbles into Brian’s forearm, crushed under three people.

_“Oi!”_

Michael struggles up from where he’s sprawled across Brian’s lap to see Pete— _Pete Wentz, holy shit,_ he’s never going to be over this—standing on a sun lounge with a bottle of beer in his hand.

“I just want to say something,” Pete says, raising the bottle. “Let’s have a fucking awesome time!”

Cheers rise from the group and Michael whoops along as he untangles himself from three pairs of limbs.

“Who’s the cute blond?” Josephine asks, wondering over to them. “He looks a little lost. Is he with us?”

Michael follows her line of sight, curious, only to find Jace at the end of it, looking absolutely mystified. He laughs, pushing to his feet to go and get his fake boyfriend. “Oh, he’s my—”

“Michael!” Pete Wentz comes and slings an arm over his shoulders. “How’re you, man?”

“Hey, man! Yeah, I’m doing great! How’s…”

Thoughts of Jace evaporate like the ice cubes floating in the drinks.

 

*

 

Later, Jace catches him as he slips out of the pool change rooms and Michael stares at him in horror.

“Oh shit, oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, rockstar,” Jace says, shaking his head. He laughs. “I went ahead and dumped all our stuff in the room while you caught up with everyone.”

Michael bites his lip, feeling guilty. “Thanks, Jay. I’m really sorry for ditching you though…I just got caught up in everything.” A smile pushes sheepishly at his mouth. “I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

Jace winks. “Eh, it’s really fine, man. They don’t know that yet, do they? But…” He’s slightly glass-eyed as his gaze sweeps over the infinity pool giving way to cliffs that tumble down into the sea, palm trees falling away into the surrounding jungle and rice fields. “I expected a lot, but this…” He laughs almost to himself before he looks back at Michael with shining eyes. “You musicians really know how to party.”

“Forget musicians, did you know Alex’s girlfriend is a VS model?” Michael asks, grinning when Jace’s eyes widen to dinner plates. “ _Yeah,_ I know. He’s been bragging about her getting her wings every moment he’s had the bloody chance.”

“Too fucking bad I’m gay,” Jace mutters, snorting.

Michael pokes his chest. “ _Oi._ At least you got me.”

“Eh, I dunno, dude…on one hand, a Victoria’s Secret angel, and on the other, world-famous rockstar.” Jace taps his chin, a grin teasing his lips. “I know which one I’d rather.”

“The Angel,” Alex’s voice comes from behind Michael and he appears, grinning, slinging an arm over Michael’s shoulders. “So, Clifford, were you planning to tell about the Hemmings doppelganger boyfriend, or…?”

Michael feels everything inside him turn to stone. All that comes out of his mouth is a strangled, _“Um…”_ His eyes are glued to a Jace who’s expression is somewhere between amusement and uncertainty. Dammit, he really should’ve thought this plan through.

Alex arches an eyebrow. “I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“No! Well, yes,” Michael manages, deflating. “He’s my boyfriend. But, you gotta let us tell the others, yeah? You can tell Josephine, I guess.”

A snort. “Sure thing, kid. Where’d he even find you, dude?” He directs at Jace.  

“A downtown gay bar,” Jace says, smiling lightly. He exchanges a look with Michael that says _help-me-out-here-douchebag._ He holds out a hand to Alex when Michael just blinks. “I’m Jace.”

Alex removes the arm around Michael and shakes the offered hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Alex. Keep an eye on this one, he can’t hold his alcohol for shit.”

Michael sucks in a breath at that and catches the tail of the shadow fleeing Jace’s eyes.

Jace manages a wan smile. “Yeah,” he says to Alex, eyes on Michael. “That much I do know.”

“So!” Michael claps his hands together to crack the jumpy feeling in his stomach that seems to seep into the air around them. “Shall we hit the pool? Brian was going on about some genius idea he’d come up with. Something to do with pool floaties and beer holders…”

 

*

 

“So let’s make this a holiday we won’t forget. Or well we might forget some of it, depending on how much of this beer we drink.” Matt raises a bottle to the laughter that ripples through their group. “Bintang bros for life. Yes, even the lovely ladies we have with us.”

Jace snorts and leans into Michael. “Yeah. Much straight. Very bro,” he mutters under his breath. “Shouldn’t we tell them that, you know, not all of us are in with the _heterosexuals.”_

Michael has to stifle a laugh, pinching Jace’s hip. Ashton cuts them a roll of his eyes. Michael rolls his eyes right back.

“Here’s to two weeks of Bali, beer and epic hangovers,” Matt finishes, grinning into the rowdy applause that greets him. “Oh and, to all you single pringles, maybe we can find someone for you, eh?”

“No,” Michael says to Jace, grinning and curling an arm around his waist as their legs knock together beneath the water. “Not yet.”

Matt glances over them at the end of his little speech and seems to blanch for a second, brows furrowing as he turns to look at Luke, glancing back and forth for a moment before shooting Michael a confused look and moving on to talk to Crystal and Roy.

“Ten bucks says he thought I was Luke,” Jace murmurs. “Maybe we should answer that question.”

Michael shoves him. “Shut up.”

“What?” Jace straightens with a laugh, flicking water at Michael. “I think it’d stave off questions. Just kiss me.”

“We’re in public,” Michael hisses.

It’s a weak excuse and he knows it. Jace knows it too because he grins, mouth curling up in a wicked twist. They’re at a private villa and there’s no one around them for miles besides the serving staff who have no real idea who they are yet. They are as safe as they could be on a holiday in Bali.

Jace uses Michael’s grip on his waist to tug him closer, throwing his arms around Michael’s neck and flashing him a bright, cheesy smile.

“So, rockstar, it’s your play—”

Michael prays for strength and kisses the bastard right on the mouth.

It takes a few long seconds but Michael hears the conversations around them die, the only sounds the lapping of the water against the pool tiles and the waves surging onto the beach below the cliff. The shock and confusion hangs thick around them and Michael would roll his eyes if he could. Surely it’s not _that_ much of a surprise...

Jace kisses back until it’s all but silent, fingers teasing along Michael’s jaw before he eases back with a satisfied smirk. Michael is close enough that he can see the light blue of his eyes gleaming behind sunglasses.

He licks his lips. “That’s one way to shut you up,” he says with a squeeze to Jace’s hip.

Jace snorts and tugs playfully at Michael’s hair. “I happen to enjoy being shut up like that.”

There’s somewhat of an outcry almost immediately after that, multiple voices demanding to know when _this_ had happened and a horde of other questions Michael can barely pick apart to answer.

“ _OKAY_ , since when did you have a boyfriend, man?” It’s Roy who breaks through the cacophony, wading across the pool and crossing his arms. He turns accusing eyes on the rest of the band and Michael notices then just how pointy he is, all sharp angles and harsh lines. “And why did none of you losers tell us?”

“What, did you think I was here as arm candy?” Jace waves the hand resting on Michael’s neck. “Mikey’s is touchy, he’s not _that_ touchy.”

Michael chuckles, untangling himself from Jace but leaving his arm around his waist. “Be nice, Jay. We’ve been…” He makes a face. “Three months-ish, I think.”

“Three months of complete torture,” Luke mutters somewhere to their left.

Michael elects to ignore that. There are a few choice things he could say but he won’t. Unnecessary drama is not his style. Although he can’t really speak for some people. Some people who waste time riling fans and subtweeting. Some people who happen to be superglued to Luke’s side.

“You absolute dog, Michael Clifford,” Pete calls, grinning. “You hid _him_ for three months?”

Michael shrugs with an answering grin. “What can I say. He’s too pretty to be shared.”

“He looks like—” Brian starts to say but he stops abruptly as Calum’s hand flies onto his mouth, sealing it shut. He blinks, a little wide-eyed.

“A model,” Bryana continues, catching Michael’s eyes with a soft look on her face before she looks at Jace. “You have the abs for it, man, and definitely the jawline. Do you model?”

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that makes him think that Bryana had figured it out. Or maybe _someone_ —he throws a glance at Ashton—had told her about the whole Luke thing.

Jace shrugs. “Yeah, sometimes. I’m a second-year psychology major, actually.”

“You bagged a smart one, Cliffo,” Matt teases. “Think he’ll be good for you.”

“Fuck off, Pauling,” Michael quips, remembering something Jace has told him during that frantic car ride from Harry and Louis’ house. “He plays the guitar like a _beast_.”

Jace takes the opening with perfect grace and timing, a serene innocence in his smile that’s only given away by the wicked curl of his fingers into Michael’s neck. “I’m _very_ good with my hands.”

The bark of laughter that leaps out of Michael is one hundred per cent genuine and he curls into Jace’s side, tipping his head onto Jace’s shoulder to curb his giggles.

“Oh my god,” Crystal sighs. “They deserve each other. That was fucking dreadful.”

Ashton sighs. “This is what we’ve been dealing with for the past three months.”

“They’re cute,” Brian says as he’s climbing out of the pool and Michael has to look up at the sharp, amused tone in his voice, gaping a little when he sees the defeated look on Calum face and tick in Brian’s cheek. “You look good together, boys.”

Jace swallows the laughter that Michael feels shaking his shoulders. Michael just blinks at Brian and wonders what the hell and who the hell he’s fooling if everyone seemed to know.

He gets a wink from Brian; a wink so subtle it may have been a trick of the light. Alex snorts from his position leaning against the side of the pool, an arm lazily thrown over a grinning Josephine’s shoulders.

Right. They didn’t have to be so _smug_ about it, did they?

In the next moment, there are two earth-shattering screams as Luke and his girlfriend tumble into the water off the pool’s edge where they had been soaking up the sun. Hysterical laughter bursts from the group as Luke surfaces, hair plastered to his head and water streaming behind the sunglasses hanging haphazardly on his face. She comes up in a similar state, once-artfully twisted bun soaked and sagging, a scowl twisting her mouth.

“Jesus,” she groans, tugging at the tie holding her hair.

“Fuck you guys,” Luke says, straightening the sunglasses, tossing his dripping fringe back over his head, and turns around to flip the finger at Brian who’s chortling, standing where Luke had been lounging beside the pool. “And _fuck_ you and both your dogs, Dales.”

Michael seriously questions his taste in guys.  

But at the same time, a grin aches in his cheeks, laughter bubbling out of him as Luke scrambles out of the pool and helps his annoyed girlfriend out. Brian crosses his arms as the two of them head for the relative safety of the villa, turning around and this time winking blatantly at Michael.

He blanches a little, confused because Brian had apparently been the one to introduce Luke to _her_ , but takes the gesture with good grace and a sheepish smile.

“Your friends aren’t idiots, Mike,” Jace murmurs under his breath, sounding amused.  

“No, they really aren’t,” Ashton says from Jace’s other side and doesn’t even spare them a glance but the smile on his face is edging on approving.

Michael begins to wonder if he’s missing something.

 

*

 

The next four days blur together in a haze of beer, pools, terrible jokes and absolute insanity.

A group of them head off for white water rafting and come back soaked, laughing as adrenalin thunders through their bodies.

Brian’s ‘rafts of Bintang’ are a rousing success and he smugly vows to patent the idea as soon as they return to LA.

Jace wrangles everyone in their group, the whiplash of his infectious grin and burn of his sharp humour instantly likeable, much to Luke’s dismay. Michael can only watch—with a certain level of glee—as Jace revels in that distaste, satisfaction oozing from him as Luke’s razor-sharp looks deepen as the days pass.

The tight clench in the pit of Michael’s stomach only seems to make him feel sick as Luke and his girlfriend lounge around looking perfect and untouchable. Luke is also unfortunately shirtless ninety-seven percent of the time and only the sheer number of distractions keeps Michael’s sanity in one piece.

The bright bell of Luke’s laughter seems to ring in Michael’s ears constantly though, slowly but surely driving him to madness.

“This,” he says darkly, “is why I asked you to come.”

Jace chuckles from next to him, lips pursed around a straw stuck into a passionfruit smoothie. He follows Michael’s gaze to where Luke, his girlfriend, Brian and Alex are having a chicken fight in the pool.

“Put out the fire, Chim-Chimney, you have a boyfriend remember? He happens to be right _here_. Glaring at Arzaylea like you want her to sprout thorns isn’t helping your convincing case of _oh what, me? No, I’m not in love with Luke.”_

Michael slurps noisily at his mixed fruit cocktail and doesn’t respond. His chest is hollow and the bright sunshine only serves to worsen his mood more.

“Oi, someone grab a guitar!” Pete calls from the other end of the pool. “Let’s liven this place up a little.”

Ashton and Bryana seem to startle out of the quiet, serious conversation they were having, and there’s a small smile before Bryana walks away. Ashton picks up the guitar leaning against his sun lounge and waves it at Michael with a grin.

Michael accepts it with great relief and sinks into the familiar thrum of music as it calms the monster in his head.

 

*

 

The beach stretches below the villa, big and empty, long and silent despite the gentle hush of the tide as it rolls up the sand. It’s too early, or maybe too late, for anyone else to be down here and Michael tucks his chin further into his arms where they are wrapped tight around his knees, staring out over the water.

The sand is cool underneath him but the air still retains a dulled sticky feeling leftover from the day. His hair ruffles, falling over his forehead with a breeze that comes over the ocean. His chin rubs over the anchor on his thumb, stubble scratching against skin.

Michael pulls his mind back from drifting away on the waves into the grey dawn breaking over the liquid horizon, thinking about Jace back in their shared room, thinking about the drunken kiss they’d shared not three hours ago. The slurred laughter and stumbling before they had pulled apart. The sympathy in Jace’s smile burns in front of Michael like a mirage on the water, the soft huff of breath as he had a taken a moment to fold Michael into a hug that they both needed before pressing a kiss to his cheek and falling face-first into bed, passing out like a switch had flipped.

 _“You deserve so much more than the world is willing to give you,”_ Jace had said. The smile on his face had spoken more than Michael had dared to infer from their growing interactions.

He wishes he could put it down to the alcohol but that saying about drunken words being sober thoughts passes through his mind.

Now, as Michael watches the waves shifting against the undulating grey-black skyline, the alcohol is gone from his system, leaving in its place a cold, terrifying sense of finality. The words resonate in his ears.

Despite insisting that their relationship is entirely platonic, Jace had developed feelings for him and Michael aches to think that he is the cause of the lingering looks and resigned smiles he catches when Jace lets his guard down.

It had hit him like a sack of bricks earlier tonight as he had watched Jace collapse into sleep with that sentence ringing behind him. Surprise, uncertainty and—

Guilt. That’s what it is. Because he knows. He knows how it feels to be in that situation.

It’s a cruel sort of irony to think that what had begun as a coping mechanism had spiralled so much further than the light-hearted excitement of a fake boyfriend with no strings attached. That it had snowballed from something of a game to involve someone else’s feeling. And all of it is entirely Michael’s fault. If he had never asked Jace to be part of this stupid plan, none of this would have happened.

But Michael holds on to the fact that although he’s beyond saving, Jace is new. Jace can be saved from the hellhole of unrequited love. And damn it all to hell if Michael doesn’t die trying to find someone who deserves Jace.

“Bit early for you to be up, isn’t it?”

Despite being torn out of his thoughts, Michael isn’t startled. It might have to do with the tranquil thrum of Bali under his skin, but only a small smile tugs at his mouth as he looks up at his best friend.

He just hums as Ashton settles down beside him. The sand rustles as Ashton makes himself comfortable.

“So.”

Michael turns his gaze back to the waves with the smile still lingering around his lips. “How come you’re awake?”

“Jetlag,” Ashton murmurs. “’Bout you? Jace’s snoring keeping you awake?” His voice is light, but Michael hears the well-worn, familiar concern under it all.

“I’m fine, Ashton.”

Ashton sighs. “We should go see the monkey temple today,” he says instead. “It’s a sanctuary for like six hundred monkeys I think, but there are like, Hindu temples inside. How _cool_ is that?”

Michael turns to look at him, amused and fond, and watches the sparkle dance in Ashton’s eyes in the near-darkness. Michael humours him. “Pretty cool. Do we get to feed the monkeys?”

“Yeah, man! We can take bananas and they’ll come sit on your shoulder. I read this one story about this guy who took a bottle of water and this monkey fucking _stole_ it and started drinking out of it.”

“One day, I’m getting your name changed to _Wikipedia_.” Although the idea of feeding monkeys does excite him, he can’t resist teasing Ashton.

“Fuck you.” Ashton shoves him with his shoulder with an exasperated roll of his eyes. “You’d know all this if you read the brochures in your room.”

“I don’t read.”

“No, you just brood into the wee hours of the morning by the sea.”

Michael huffs. “What if I was just relaxing and you came and messed with my qi? And I cannot believe you just said _wee—”_

“Michael _.”_

Ah. He’d been waiting for that. The fatherly tone that slips into Ashton’s voice on occasion when he’s really unimpressed or particularly concerned about them.

“What?” He steamrolls on, fidgeting with his sleeves. “You can’t just—” The words tangle in his throat as Ashton’s hand lands on his twitching fingers.  

“Mike,” Ashton says quietly, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” Michael forces out, cringing at the thickness in his voice. “I’m _fine.”_

“It became a thing, didn’t it.” Ashton doesn’t move his hand, instead squeezing and letting it rest, warm and comforting on Michael’s.

It’s not a question and his heart lurches as he realises what Ashton is referring to.

“Yeah.” A long breath drains out of him. “Yeah. It…it was always a thing. It’s always been a _thing._ ” He huffs a dark laugh after the confession. “Every song I wrote…”

Ashton shuffles, throwing his arm over Michael’s shoulder and pulling him into Ashton’s side. “You didn’t tell us.”

“I _couldn’t,”_ Michael whispers. “I didn’t want to. It was…it was enough for me to just let it out like that. When it got too much.”

“You could have,” Ashton says firmly, squeezing him. “You can. Michael, you can always talk to me, us—”

“I know,” he interrupts quietly. “But I needed it. I need it. It helps.”

Ashton doesn’t say anything. They listen to the waves as they whisper around them, kissing the shore before skittering back. For once, Michael is glad for the company and the warmth that stops his brain from spiralling into itself.

“I’m fine.” He repeats unnecessarily.

The lie, this time, is too obvious and Ashton snorts lightly.

“Right.”

It’s terrifying, to have the words bubbling under his tongue, to bite them back. Something about Ashton tonight, the salt-curled flop of his hair, the stubble over his cheeks, the edge of sass in his tone, reminds him of Luke.

“I…” His voice cracks under the pressure. “Shit.”

Ashton tugs him further into his side and Michael finally lets himself lean into him, exhausted.

“I love him.”

Ashton’s controlled reaction is betrayed only by the way he stiffens.

Michael laughs and its humourless, bordering pained. “I love him so much it hurts to breathe sometimes.” His chest heaves as the confession tumbles out, bursting through the dam into the balmy night air, words dragged out to sea by the wind even as Ashton deflates, melting into Michael so that they’re supporting each other.

He hates the way he feels raw, exposed like a nerve, cut open and vulnerable.

“Mikey,” Ashton says quietly.

Michael sucks in a sharp breath at the name, tensing in Ashton’s arms. He forces himself to breathe out slowly. “Sorry.”

“Hey.” Ashton squeezes him, their heads pressed together. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s really okay. You’re allowed to feel _,_ Michael, you’re only human.”

“I’m so _tired,”_ Michael says helplessly. “I’m so tired of feeling, Ashton. All I do is _feel_ and it’s exhausting.”

“This trip’s good though, right?” Ashton is trying to sound confident, to hide the uncertainty Michael can hear underlying it. “And having Jace here is helping?”

He would laugh if it wouldn’t end up giving everything away. Instead, Michael nods a little. “The past few days have been amazing and…Jace is a good guy.”

Ashton hums. “I’m glad you have him.”

Michael lets out a sigh. “Yeah. Me too.”

“In the interest of full disclosure,” Ashton says after a moment, voice catching a little, “Bryana and I broke up.”

Michael startles, jostling Ashton away as he turns to gape at him. “You _what?_ Wait, oh my god, but you two were… _perfect._ I—what _happened?”_

Ashton is grinning a little at Michael’s word vomit and Michael rolls his eyes, swallowing away the lump in his throat, and stares at the eldest expectantly.

“Well? What did you do?”

“Why do you assume _I_ did something? We weren’t…” Ashton sighs and the amusement disappears, something haunted crossing his eyes. “She’s amazing and I love her but not in that way, I guess, you know? She’s a great friend but, well. She deserves more.”

“So do you,” Michael says softly, reaching out to squeeze Ashton’s knee. “So do you, Ash.”

Ashton smiles, small and grateful in the near darkness. “Come here,” he says, gesturing at Michael. “The wind is cold.”

“So,” Michael asks after a small stretch of silence. “Who is it?”

“Huh?”

“M’not an idiot,” Michael says with a snort. “One does not simply break it off with someone like Bryana unless there’s someone else. _So_ , who is it?”

“Calum,” Ashton quips immediately and Michael bursts into laughter.

“Real funny, asshole.”

Ashton grins. “You say the sweetest things.”  

Michael rolls his eyes and falls silent, knowing that Ashton would tell them when he was ready.

They stay there together, staring out over the ocean until the sun starts to rise. It’s mesmerising, the way a sliver of burning orange suddenly explodes the sky into pastel shades of purple and orange, and Michael sits with Ashton and watches until the water shimmers silver and calm in the soft glow of the sun.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND SO??? Bali is basically going to be a jam-packed ride. I'm still deciding whether it'll be two or three chapters dedicated to Bali. We'll see...
> 
> In the meantime, PLEEAAASSEE leave a comment, yell, laugh, cry, scream some more at me! :) Much love to you all <3


	14. Can't forget the look in your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...it's only been a month this time! That's probably an achievement. I have to apologise if this chapter is fragmented and choppy and doesn't feel entirely connected. But I will promise that the next chapter will be less so and more flowy :) 
> 
> It's long-ish, so I hope it gives you some laughs and makes you stop hating Luke quite so much ;P 
> 
> I love you guys, soo enjoy!!
> 
> ~~
> 
> EDIT: So I've added a new scene with Luke and Michael towards the end because I couldn't believe I'd forgotten a sunscreen scene.

Jace turns a page of his textbook, biting on the end of his pen as he sits on a chair on the balcony outside their room.

Michael feels like a creep as he stands behind the edge of the curtain, toying with his fingers and trying to work up the courage to walk outside.

Unaware of Michael’s internal dilemma, Jace scribbles notes in the margins as he proceeds to be the only productive person on this holiday.

Eventually, Michael takes a deep breath and slides the door open, stepping out of the air-conditioned room and into the warm ocean breeze.

“Hey, man,” Jace says, looking up. “Thought you were off adventuring with the others.”

Michael manages a smile and perches on the edge of the second chair, stomach rolling. His skin crawls as he tries to gather the words he’d rehearsed a million times on the lonely car ride back to the villas.

“Yeah,” he says, messing with his hair. “Came back early.”

Jace chuckles as he highlights a sentence in neon orange, before writing notes beside it. “Ever the introvert—”

“Jay,” Michael interrupts as the words suddenly come surging forward, cringing a little at the abruptness, “do you like me?”

The pen freezes on the page. Tension tightens the curve of Jace’s spine. The horror spilling into his face gives him away and Michael swallows against the confirmation.

“No,” comes strained and quiet. “No, Mike, it’s not—”

“It’s okay!” Michael says quickly, guilt making him squirm in the chair. “It’s okay, seriously, it’s…I don’t care, okay and well, it’s a compliment, isn’t it? It’s flattering—”

Jace’s expression tips into horrified misery. The nib of the pen rips into the glossy textbook page.

“Oh fuck, I’m fucking this up,” Michael groans, rubbing his hands down his face. He exhales heavily. “What I mean is, it’s okay and I’m sorry you got dragged into my shit show of a love life and we’re gonna find you an awesome guy who’ll actually deserve you.”

At that, Jace’s lips twitch. He sighs and drops his pen into the book before closing it. “I seem to have a knack for falling for guys who are into other people,” he says, head dropping back. “I keep wondering if it’ll be the same forever.”

Michael sits back in his chair, drawing his knees up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jace says lightly. “I got myself into that mess, rockstar, and this time, it’s my fault too.”

“I _asked—”_

“Yeah, but I agreed, didn’t I?”

Michael falls silent at that, chin digging into his kneecap.  

“He was one of my best friends,” Jace says after a short silence. He chuckles. “Bi, and as luck would have it, he fell for one of our other friends, a girl. I’d been in love with the idiot for so fucking long, I almost had a panic attack the first time he kissed her in front of me.”

Michael stays quiet, listens, because there isn’t much he can say.

“He proposed to her four months ago.” Jace tugs a rough hand through his hair. “Asked me to be his best man.”

“Did you agree?”

He laughs, nodding. “Of course. We’ve been friends for more than fifteen years and they’ve been dating for the last five of them. I wasn’t going to say no.” Jace glances at him then and blanches at whatever he sees on Michael’s face. “Yo, it’s fine! I’m over him, it’s just a weird memory. I’m really happy for them, dude!”

Michael watches him. Studies the easing tightness in his shoulders, the fidget of his fingers on the hardcover of the textbook. “And then I came along and fucked you up some more,” he says, groaning. “Unbelievable.”

Jace throws a highlighter at his face. “Oi, stop blaming yourself for being lovable, you idiot! Like you said, it’s a compliment. I’ll get over this, you worry about yourself and darling Lucas.”

“You know, I really hate you,” Michael says, dropping his knees with a snort. Relief bubbles in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll try not to make your life harder than it already is.”

Jace waves a hand. “Chill, rockstar. It’s cool, alright? It’s all good. Now, do you want to help me study or go order us both drinks?”

Michael leaps out of his chair with a yelp, laughing. He tosses the highlighter back at Jace. “Alcohol or no?”

“Get yourself whatever, but I should be sober for this chapter or I’ll never absorb anything.” Jace sighs as he cracks the book open to the original page and starts to read.

With a fond smile, Michael slips back into the hotel room and picks up the phone to dial room service.

 

*

 

Michael is laying on his stomach on a sun lounge, fiddling with his phone when a wet body flops onto his back with an exhausted groan.

 _“Oof,”_ he huffs, craning his neck to see who it is. “What the—”

“M’so tired,” Luke’s voice drifts over his shoulder. A wet head rests on the back of his neck. “You’re so comfy.”

Michael forces the clench in his stomach to loosen as he settles back into the cushion beneath him. “Finding your own chair would’ve been comfier.”

Luke makes a combative noise. “Nah,” he mumbles into Michael’s bare skin. “You’re a better pillow.”

Michael smiles and lifts his phone, opening Snapchat to record a video over his shoulder. “Hey. Hey. _Hey,_ ” he says when Luke doesn’t look up. “Look! Hey, _look!_ ”

When Luke looks up, it’s with tired blue eyes and a pouty mouth, wet strands of hair tumbling over his forehead. It takes all the energy Michael has left to keep the swooning sigh inside his mouth. Heart beating steady and hard against his ribs, Michael laughs softly as he sends it to a couple of friends. “Thanks, babe.”

Luke hums, drops his head back to nuzzle the back of Michael’s neck and falls silent.

“Yo, have you guys seen Mike?”

Jace’s voice comes from his right and Michael turns his neck, resting his cheek against the cushion.

Josephine looks up from her phone from where she’s resting against Alex. “Yeah, he’s over there with Jace. They’re so adorable, aren’t they?”

Michael wonders how she doesn’t notice that Luke apparently has an American accent out of the blue.

Confusion fades across Jace’s expression, hidden behind sunglasses and Michael stifles a grin when a bright laugh comes bursting out of Jace after a moment. He throws his head back and howls, pulling off the sunglasses to wipe his eyes.

 _“Jace?”_ Alex frowns, looking him up and down. “Wait, then that’s—”

“Luke,” Josephine finishes, turning in Michael’s direction and he hurriedly closes his eyes.

Jace keeps laughing. “I’ll leave them be,” he chortles, turning back to the villa. “Tell Michael that I’m gonna have a nap so be quiet when he comes in.”

As Alex and Josephine nod absently, still preoccupied with the mix-up, Jace looks directly at Michael as he cracks open his lids, smirking when they lock eyes.

 _“Nice,”_ he mouths. “ _I approve.”_

Michael shoos him away and he goes, laughter ringing in his wake.

 

*

 

The Ubud Monkey Forest is every bit as amazing as Ashton had said it would be. Michael is soaking, fading red hair leaving reddened streaks of sweat down his neck, soaked into his cap, his tank top squelched against his back. But there’s a monkey, a small macaque sitting on his forearm eating a banana, and he’s watching it with wide eyes, wholly uncaring about anything else.

“Oh my god, look at its little paws,” he whispers, grinning. “They’re so little and so cute.”

“Just like yours,” Ashton mumbles, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he snaps a few photos on Michael’s phone.

Michael huffs, affronted, but does it quietly lest the little monkey leave him. “Excuse you, Mr Giant Hands.”

Jace laughs from where he’s sitting on a temple ledge with a monkey on each shoulder, munching away at cashew nuts off his palm. “You do have cute hands though.”

A sort of…forlorn look flashes across Ashton’s face and Michael wonders if that has anything to do with the reason for the Bryana breakup.

But Ashton smirks at him then as he turns the phone on Jace. “Must be right if your boyfriend agrees with me,” he says, voice steady, managing to capture a brilliant picture of Jace laughing amidst the monkey feeding fest around him.

With the wide-necked white shirt, shorts and sunglasses, Jace is the spitting image of Luke in that moment. The only difference is the Adidas on his feet rather than Luke’s usual black Nikes.

Michael scowls at the leer that he gets from Jace when he’s caught staring, just as the little monkey finishes the banana and leaps off his arm, sprinting for the cover of the trees. “Fuck you both.”

Luke comes bounding across the temple amphitheatre then, smile wide and eyes twinkling. “I fed a monkey,” he says breathlessly. “Oh my god, it was so cute!”

“Just one?” Jace asks, smirking. The monkeys on his shoulders continue to chatter as they eat.  

Michael throws him an exasperated look because does he _have_ to poke the bear all the time? In return, Jace blows him a kiss. 

“They obviously think you’re one of them,” Luke shoots back, running a hand through his hair.

The laugh that Michael tries to stifle bursts out of him, cutting through the monkey chatter around them and Luke’s smug grin is bright as he aims it at Jace, who rolls his eyes.

Ashton sighs beside Michael. “You’d think after almost two weeks that this pissing contest would be over,” he mutters under his breath.

“I’m kind of enjoying it,” he hisses back, grinning.

“They’re fighting over you, of course you’re enjoying it,” Ashton laughs. “Attention-seeker.”

“Fuck off,” Michael snorts, even though _yeah,_ of course he’s enjoying it. “Go find the others and leave me alone with the wonder twins.”

Ashton walks away shaking his head.

“Oi, if you’re done, can we go now?” Michael asks Jace, gesturing at his empty hands. “Don’t you have things to do?”

Jace glances up sharply at that and the monkeys scatter as a cacophony of panicked shrieks fills the air. He winces, gingerly getting to his feet and picking his way across to Michael and Luke.

“Like what?” He asks, crossing his arms. He glances at Luke and suddenly snaps his fingers, gesturing to Michael. _“Oh,_ you mean that _thing_ you asked me to do!”

The heavy innuendo in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. But as Luke turns to look at Michael curiously, he gets a little lost in shadowed ocean-blue eyes. Luke doesn’t look away. And if he says anything, Michael doesn’t hear it.

Fingers threading through his jerks him out of his trance. A soft, amused smile greets him when he tears his eyes away from Luke. “C’mon, Mikey,” Jace says, “Matt says that we have to go.”

He stumbles as Jace tugs him in the direction of their group. “Yeah…right.”

It’s almost like slow-motion, those scenes in rom-coms, watching Luke stand there watching him as he walked away, sweaty blond hair shifting in the breeze. Slow-motion when long curly hair bounced as she jogged up to Luke to catch his attention.

Michael feels light-headed when their eye contact finally breaks, blinking as he turns around. There’s a squeeze to his fingers.

“Well, that was interesting.”

He shakes his head to clear it. “Yeah…”

Jace huffs a quiet laugh. “Definitely interesting.”

 

*

 

A day later, Michael abandons Calum to his journal and wonders through the villa in search of Alex, hoping that he would be up for another guitar session. 

The sun is high in the sky and the humidity is almost unbearable when he reaches the door leading outside, and he squints against the glare off the ocean as he looks around. What he finds isn't Alex.

Jace is sitting with Ashton, both of their legs dangling in the pool, towels around their shoulders to block out the worst of the afternoon sun, and Michael starts to smile—he's glad that they're getting to know each other without him being there to ease the awkward silences—before he sees the hunch in Ashton's shoulders and the earnest gesture of Jace's hands as he talks. 

Michael leans back into the shadows of the doorway and watches, curious. 

Ashton seems to droop a little more, rubbing his hands down his face and staring into the water as Jace continues to talk, explaining something. Michael frowns, stepping forward when Ashton drops his head into his hands, but stops again when Jace settles a hand on his back, seemingly to reassure him. 

Michael sighs. Whatever Ashton couldn't talk to them about, at least he's talking to someone. Still, Michael swallows the tickle of hurt in his throat that Ashton didn't come to one of them with whatever it is that's bothering him so much. 

 _“But how can I—”_ echoes as Ashton suddenly lashes out, feet kicking into water in clear frustration, splashing over the two of them and Michael grits his teeth against the urge to storm over and demand to know why he was hiding something obviously emotionally tormenting from his _best friends._

Instead, he takes a page out of Jace’s book and just watches.

Jace pats Ashton’s towel-covered back and his expression is insistent but soft, understanding, as he continues to talk.   

Michael closes his eyes and takes a moment to calm the fire in his stomach before makes his way inside again, only to stop at the window and glance out over the pool.

There’s an inferno in Ashton’s eyes and Jace is grinning victoriously, thumping Ashton’s back now. Michael rubs his forehead as Ashton huffs and shoves Jace into the pool, towel and all, and heads up to have a nap when Jace resurfaces with the grin still firmly in place to yank Ashton into the water.

 

*

 

“They had a fight.”

Michael shakes himself out of his daze, mind still reeling over what he’d seen yesterday by the pool. He hadn’t asked Jace when he’d come back to their room later, just watched through half-lidded eyes as the other boy had wondered around the room for a bit before getting into bed himself.

He turns to Brian beside him with a frown. “What?”

The singer doesn’t look at him, grinning lightly as he tosses his head in the direction of Luke engaged in a savage water fight with Calum, Roy and Josephine. “Luke and Lea.”

A vicious cheer reverberates in his chest but Michael stamps it down. “How’d you know?”

Brian chuckles. “Overhead ‘em going at it this morning in their room. Dunno if they realised that the walls are paper thin. It did not sound pretty though…Something about her wanting to go to one of the waterparks and Luke refusing because waterparks are everywhere but Bali is only in Bali.”

What a stupid reason to fight, and besides, he’s with Luke. Why go to a waterpark in _Bali_ when there were a million other cool things to do? Geez.

“Luke doesn’t look too unhappy,” Michael murmurs, eyes following Luke as he leaps out of the water with a laugh to jump Calum and drag him into the depths. “Where’s _she?”_

“Sulking to Crystal’s sister out the side. Doesn’t sound too happy about her boyfriend having fun after fighting with her.”

Michael stifles a snort and Brian throws him an amused look which he staunchly ignores.

“Anyways, Roy, Pete and I are gonna play pool, you in?”

“Nah, man. Maybe later.” He shrugs when Brian looks unimpressed. “I’m waiting for Jace to bring me a drink.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us about him,” Brian says as he backs away. “See ya later, you lazy shit!”

“This is a holiday, Dales, I’m supposed to be lazy!” Michael yells after him.  

When Jace appears holding two cocktails, Michael pats the sun lounge next to him. Jace drops down, jostling their shoulders together, and Michael takes his drink with a bite to his lower lip.

“Apparently, Tweedledum and Tweedledee had a fight,” he says after a moment of listening to the soft lap of water and yells from the pool. He hopes that he pulls off the casual thing he’s going for.

The codenames had been born out of necessity, partly because Michael couldn’t stand Luke’s _lovely_ girlfriend and partly because Jace had insisted after the resort’s costume party had been Alice in Wonderland themed, with Tweedledum and Tweedledee coming as… _Tweedledum and Tweedledee._

An unsurprised sound comes from the boy beside him.

“Of course they did. My charming twin spent ninety per cent of yesterday’s trip practically ignoring her, but I guess you wouldn’t have realised that since he was fucking glued to you the entire time we were at the Besakih Temple. You’re lucky we aren’t really dating, for all the attention you gave me yesterday. Did you even know I was _there?_ ”

Michael tries to scowl but his face refuses, lips tipping upward despite himself. So, it was bigger than an argument about a waterpark. “Of course I knew you were there…”

“You could look a _little_ more upset, you know,” Jace says, laughing aloud. “Your best friend fought with his girlfriend and you’re _smiling._ You want him to be _happy,_ remember? Or has that changed?”

“He’s happy!” Michael exclaims, thrusting a hand towards Luke. “Does he look unhappy to you?”

“You’re not that stupid, rockstar.” But Jace seems to drop the subject, fiddling with the straw in his drink. “I need to tell you something.”

Michael’s brow furrows as he turns to look at him and studies the anxious twitch of his fingers. “What’s up?”

Jace’s cheeks tinge pink. “I…might have met this guy yesterday at the Uluwatu Temple.”

A massive grin spreads across Michael’s face and the sheer relief makes his chest ache with the force of it. “Oh you _might have?”_

He gets shoved for his trouble, pink darkening into a hot blush across Jace’s cheeks. “Shut up.”

Michael arches at eyebrow, grin morphing into smirk. “Wow, you really liked this guy. Go on, man. I’m gonna need details.”

“I hate you,” Jace grumbles, slurping his drink. “Peyton. His name is Peyton.” Michael just hums, waiting. “Lives in Boston, he’s half Italian, half American—”

“ _Damn_. Must be attractive, since he’s a halfie.”

“—and his mother was watching _Herby: Fully Loaded_ when she was pregnant with him and decided to name him Peyton.”

Michael bursts out laughing, sparking a grin from Jace in the process. “Oh my god, poor guy.”

Jace shrugs, sheepish once more. “And you’re right. He’s hot as _fuck._ He practically glows under the sun, like his skin is tanned and _ugh—”_

“Where’s he staying?” He interrupts before the tangent spirals further.

“That other resort down near the Uluwatu villas.”

Michael’s lips rise into a grin. “Invite him to the New Years’ bonfire then.”

Jace gapes at him. _“_ Are you nuts? Your friends are going to skin me alive if I’m seen with another guy, idiot, and I don’t need an army of musicians breathing down my neck for apparently having cheated on you.”

That…is a good point.

He sighs. “Right. Well, it’s a good thing we’ll be going down to stay at those villas from tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Jace slurps noisily through the straw, cheeks red. “Yeah, that’s what I told him.”

“You cheeky shit,” Michael says, laughing. “Well, there’s your summer fling.”

“It’s winter, dude.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Mate, it’s summer in my corner of the world, alright, just roll with it.”

“You know,” Jace says conversationally as Luke walks past them, wiping at his hair with a towel, “I really want to visit Sydney.”

Luke double-takes and almost loses his footing on the wet ground, teetering over the pool. Jace buries a laugh in his drink and Michael rolls his eyes, wiping his own smile away in his hand, throwing a quick, _you alright?_ to Luke as he catches himself and keeps walking towards the villas. He doesn’t answer.

When Luke is out of ear-shot, Michael whacks Jace across the chest with the back of his hand. “I would ask you to come this time but Luke might actually pop a vein.”

Jace throws his head back and laughs. “Tormenting one of the most popular guys in the world is _so_ much more satisfying than I’d thought.”

“Yeah well, you’re currently dating his best friend so you must’ve done something right in life,” Michael says, chuckling.

 _“Wow,”_ Jace says, huffing, and sets his empty glass on the small wooden table beside the sun lounge, getting up with a stretch. “C’mon, lazy, let’s go join the fun.”

 

*

 

Michael flops onto the sun lounge, exhausted. “I’ve inhaled half of the pool,” he slurs, throwing an arm over his head and staring up unseeingly through the thin material of the umbrella. “I’m pr’bly gonna die.”

Luke glances over from where he’s sprawled on his own lounge, a grin curling across his lips. “You’re also gonna burn if you don’t reapply.”

“What’re you, my mother?” Michael asks, turning to look at him through hooded eyes. His heart flops a little at the soft grin he sees. “I’ll be fine.”

Luke throws his legs over the side of the sun lounge, grabbing the sunscreen sitting on the small table beside it. “Sit up, c’mon. Last time you said you’d be fine, you were swimming in aloe for two weeks.”

Uh.

Luke’s hands all over him? Rubbing cream into his skin? Fuck, that’s…that’s probably _not_ that best course of action. They’re in public. He really doesn’t need an unfortunate erection right now.

Michael swallows thickly, throwing a glance at Jace stood by the poolside bar with Calum. It’s also at that moment that he catches sight of _her,_ leaning against the bar and talking to Roy _._

Right.

He sits up with an exaggerated sigh and shuffles until he’s sitting with his back to Luke. “The things I do for you.”

There’s a click as the cap shuts and a puff of laughter before he can feel Luke at his back. “Yeah, I’m sure having me rub sunscreen on you is a real hardship.”

 _Well when you put it like that…_ Michael thinks hysterically. “Really, I’m living the fantasy of at least thirty million people,” he says out loud, laughing when Luke shoves him with a knee.

“Fuck off, it’s not my fault I’m so desirable,” he hums, voice low, and Michael physically flinches when he finally puts his hands on Michael’s back. “Sorry, it’s cold.”

Michael would scream if he could because he fucking wishes that was the problem. “Thanks for the warning.”

Luke chuckles under his breath and slowly moves his hands over Michael’s shoulders, long, callused fingers digging into the muscle and trailing fire in their wake. By the time he moves down past the shoulder blades, Michael is ninety-eight percent sure he isn’t breathing, hyper-focused on the spread of Luke’s hands on him and dizzy with the slow circles rubbing the warming sunscreen into his skin.

His throat is a little raw, head swimming as Luke makes him fold forwards to reach his lower back. The sun is exploding and there is molten rock pooling in his stomach and he can feel Luke’s presence behind him in a long line of unforgiving heat.

Thank fuck he’s sitting down. Thank fuck these board shorts are loose.

“Must be dehydrated,” he mutters into his arms, and his voice is a little wrecked. Michael really hates himself.

“Hmm?” comes from behind him as slow hands smooth up his back to his shoulders.

“Need a drink,” Michael says and hopes he doesn’t sound as turned on as he feels.

He catches Jace’s eyes across the pool and wants to kill him as he sees the shit-eating grin curled across his face. _I fucking hate you,_ he mouths.

Jace just raises his beer at him with a wink. Calum’s eyebrows are reaching for his hairline as he follows Jace’s eye line. Michael scowls at him too, before his expression breaks when Luke’s fingers dig a little too deep into a knotted muscle and he stifles a groan.

“Damn, get a room, boys!” Roy hollers, laughing. “Nobody asked for soft core porn!”

Jace doubles over by the bar. Calum next to him splutters his beer all over stone pavers. Michael’s voice sticks in his throat. Luke’s hands freeze where they are on Michael’s shoulders, thumbs digging into the back of his neck.

_Holy fucking shit._

“I’ll do what I want, English!” Luke yells back and Michael chokes, sucking in a sharp breath as he realises that Luke’s imitated Jace’s accent without a shred of confusion. He rubs his hands slowly over Michael’s shoulders and there’s a cold wash of air as he moves away. “All done,” he says quietly.

And then he’s walking away towards the villas with a grin over his shoulder at Michael, calling back in a voice that is still somehow very much _Jace_ , “You coming or what, rockstar?”

Michael gapes at him, mouth open. Nothing comes out but a wheezing breath.

As Luke disappears around a corner with an easy grin like he hadn’t just shoved his hand into Michael’s chest and stabbed him in the heart, Michael turns very slowly to look at Jace and it’s then that Michael realises that both Luke and Jace are wearing black swimming shorts and silver reflective sunglasses.

Right. That’s…that’s a little better. Not that it changes much.

He swallows, body still overheated and arousal lingering in his bloody, and gets to his feet. “I’m just gonna…” He says uselessly and leaves.

He is halfway to the room when Jace catches up to him.

 _“Oh my god,”_ he cackles, “You should’ve seen his fucking _face!_ I actually thought he was going to throw himself into the pool!”

Michael groans, shoving a hand over his face. “I think I’m going to throw myself into a fucking volcano. There’s gotta be one on an island somewhere.”

“And did you _hear_ him? Fucker’s got my voice down so well I’d say he’s been practicing,” Jace says, pushing his sunglasses over his head to wipe his eyes. “Oh _man,_ that was fucking awesome.”

Michael throws the door to their room open and stalks in, heading straight for the bathroom.

“Need a hand, _rockstar_?” Jace asks, voice lilting on a teasing tone.

Michael throws him the finger over his shoulder. “Fuck off, I hate you and I hate Luke and everyone in this godforsaken world.”

The door slams behind him. Jace’s laughter echoes through it.

Michael leans his head against the wood and heaves in a deep breath, glad that the shock had made the situation in his pants less prominent.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

He spins around and turns the shower to the coldest setting possible, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of Luke’s fingers massaging his neck.

 

*

 

When Jace starts acting shifty that night, Michael smells a rat.

“Alright,” he says, planting himself in front of Jace’s bed. “What’re you hiding from me?”

“Nothing,” Jace says immediately, shaking his head. His hand curls tighter around his phone. _“Nothing,_ I promise.”

Michael nods until Jace lets his guard down and then leaps at him, grabbing the phone out of his hands. Jace groans, clawing at his arm to get it back but Michael traps it against his chest and turns around, half sitting on Jace.

 _Oh._ “Wow,” he mutters. “You’re stalking her on Twitter now?”

Jace huffs from under him. “Better me than you.” A sigh. “C’mon, man, don’t read it. It’s just a bunch of subtweets at Luke, bitter and petty and childish after the fight. They haven’t made up yet, obviously.”

Michael ignores him and scrolls past the multitude of tweets from just today— _If you won’t take me there, I’ll take myself there. Independent ass bitch._ What a _joke_ —until he hits a picture from two days ago but posted just three hours ago, a selfie of Luke and her curled up on a sun lounge. It’s the caption more than the cutesy photo that grates on his nerves like nails against a chalkboard.

_Arzaylea: me and my best friend, love you forever <3 _

His teeth grind, jaw locking as his eyes go unfocused. “Best friend? _Best friend?!”_ He chokes out, shaking. “How dare she—” How dare she say that. What does she even _know_ about Luke anyway? What right does _she_ have to claim that? What a fucking ridiculous—

“I told you not to look,” Jace says, voice muffled. He pulls himself out from under Michael, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “C’mon, it’s late, yeah? Let’s go to bed.”

Michael swallows the anger surging in his throat. “I hate her. I fucking _hate_ her.”

Jace laughs, squeezing him lightly. “Yeah, babe, I know. Go to sleep, alright, you’ll feel better in the morning. Besides, I reckon she’s pissed off about the sunscreen thing from earlier. She knew it wasn’t me, man, you should’ve seen her face after you guys left.”

Michael feels a little vindictive as he grins but couldn’t care less. Maybe _something_ good had come out of that.  

He’s still simmering silently as he slips under the covers, skin burning and jealousy boiling through him. It makes him feel sick, the strength of the fury stirring under his skin, but fuck, _fuck,_ he hates her beyond anything he thought imaginable.

 The worst part is that he  _knows_ that this is irrational because Luke clearly feels the same way about her, but maybe that's why Michael wants to crawl out of his own body. Because Luke feels the same way. 

“Do you think—”

A soft sigh comes from Jace's bed. “He'll always be your best friend, Mike. Nothing is ever gonna change that.”

Barbed wire wraps around his heart. “Yeah,” Michael murmurs to himself. “Maybe that's the problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Chapter 14! Jace is remarkable chill about his feelings for Michael, but quite possibly because of Peyton ;) The fight between Luke and Lea (the temptation for a Star Wars joke was almost too much) will linger. 
> 
> But hey! Hopefully that chapter wasn't completely awful and plotless...and I hope you enjoyed it! So PLEAAAASE as usual to all you beautiful people who put up with me, leave a comment to yell/complain/give advice/criticise <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	15. Miss the way you make me feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT!!!
> 
> Not much to say this time, except that this is a monster of a chapter which is 9k+ words, 21 pages on Word...I really hope you guys enjoy this! Everything comes to a head and...shit happens, basically...
> 
> ENJOY!!

It’s silent as Michael creeps down the hallway, the walls echoing with the emptiness that expands through the villa like a balloon even though the others are somewhere, hidden away in all the nooks and crannies, savouring the silence after a chaotic two weeks. A slow afternoon is something all of them need.

Jace had begged for a nap because the days and nights of swimming and drinking—flirting with every breath with the Italian-American Peyton from Boston—were getting to him, yawning his way through a mumbled explanation even as his eyes drooped. Michael had grinned, eyeing the jagged piece of paper lying under Jace’s phone with _call me, xx P_ and a string of numbers. He had closed the blinds and padded out as silently as he could, relief swirling in his chest.

The silence lingers now, settling over him comfortably until a muffled curse comes from the living room before there’s a crash.

Michael is surprised that anyone is around with the afternoon flooding the coast and the sun starting to set in the west. Honestly, he’d thought everyone would’ve taken the time to hole away and do their own thing.

He rounds the corner and—it’s his luck, isn’t it, that it’s Luke who is hunched over on the floor with his back to Michael, Luke who is around at all when he wanted to sneak down to the beach by himself and be by himself for a while to recharge. Silence and solitude is rare with a group as big as theirs. Someone always wants to hang out.

At the sound of his footsteps, Luke shoots up and around with a sheepish smile on his face.

And _fuck_ , maybe this is all some elaborate plan and someone’s going to jump out and yell _PUNKED_ in the next few seconds because none of this is fair and Luke is bare-chested, dressed in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks slung low on his hips and barely reaching his knees, showing off the thick muscle in his legs and the sharp jut of his hipbones, the trail of hair that disappears below the elastic waistband.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Luke says.

By sheer force of will, Michael drags his eyes away from smooth expanse of muscle stretching across Luke’s chest, sliding over the muscle definition of his stomach and the sharp V of his hips down his legs to the floor. Broken pieces of black plastic litter the tiles around the television remote, the batteries long and silver as they glint in the light spilling in from the windows.

Michael steps further into the room, keeping his eyes well away from Luke’s half-naked self and completely ignoring the way his heart is knocking an iron fist against his ribs.

He snorts. “You’re such a klutz,” he says, a grin teasing his mouth. “The fuck did you do? Step on it?”

The guilty tightness etched into the corners of Luke’s eyes eases and in the afternoon sunlight that glints off the window panes, his irises look like the infinity pool outside, deep blue surrounded by a thick line of black. Michael wants to dive in and disappear into them forever.

“It was an accident.”

“Thank god the world isn’t fooled by your innocent act.” Michael shoots him an amused look. “You’re a pathological liar.”

Luke stoops down pick up the remote and the pieces surrounding it, throwing an exasperated look at him. “Oh fuck off.”

Michael crouches down beside him to help with a laugh.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” He asks Luke as they close the bin a few minutes later. “Thought you’d be with your delightful girlfriend.”

The bitterness in his voice is barely discernible and Michael is proud of himself.

“She’s asleep. I wanted to go down to the beach, maybe swim, and then knocked into the coffee table and the remote broke, so…”

Michael laughs lightly. “Only you would give up a nap to go down to have a swim.”

“Only _you_ would give up a swim to have a nap,” Luke shoots back, teasing.

Michael gapes at him before conceding the point with a shrug.

When Luke grins, unashamed, he hesitates and decides to forego the trip to the beach. “’Kay well, have fun.”

When long fingers wrap around his wrist as he turns away, it brings his movements and his heartbeat to a stop.

“There’s no law that says you _have_ to go.” Luke says softly and there’s a light in his eyes that makes a shy smile curl the corners of Michael’s mouth. _Shy._ Jesus Christ. “You wanna come with?”

His heart kick starts in his chest and his reply is slow as blood pumps sluggishly around his body.

What.

_No._

Well, _yes,_ obviously _…_ but no. Definitely not.

This is a terrible idea; it’s going to end in potential _death._ He needs to say no for the sake of his sanity and the impending end to it he can see if he agrees. The past few days have been hell enough, sharing that bloody inflatable swan—Obi-Swan Kenobi, it’s genius—with a wet, half-naked Luke and the general exposure to a chronically half-naked Luke all day, every day, the _sunscreen incident_.

Fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, Michael nods. “You sure?”

_What. An. Idiot._

He’s doomed.

But Luke quoted _Lion King_ at him and he’s weak when it comes to him anyway.

Luke lets go of Michael’s wrist, reaching for a towel slung over the arm of the couch and turns back with a roll of his eyes. “C’mon, man, let’s go.”

He hates Luke a little for the obvious nonchalance.

They leave the bamboo villa together, bare feet silent on the stone tiles outside and whispering through the lawn as they cut across it. The garden is lush and green at the height of the summer monsoon season in Bali. Salt grasses line the path down the cliffs to the beach, increasingly sandy underfoot and warm from the afternoon sun.

Michael glances at Luke and he’s smiling serenely, taking in the landscape with intrigue in his eyes and seemingly at peace, and he can’t help but hide a fond smile as he looks down at the ground.

“We haven’t hung out in a while.”

The observation startles him a little but he looks up at Luke with a raised eyebrow. “We spent every day together for seven months, and the past week or so within a three-metre radius of each other.”

Luke shrugs. “Dunno. Just seems like you’re never totally around these days.”

“That’s a lie,” Michael says with a snort, although there’s some truth to that, internally yelling _that’s your fault, you and your hands all over me three days ago! Fuck you!_ “You get me for eleven months of the year, a couple weeks apart isn’t gonna hurt you. Also, do I have to worry about you going all jealous-crazy again? I mean, I don’t think I can—”

He lets out a squawk of indignation as he gets shoved hard to the side and he looks at Luke who just continues to walk like the paragon of innocence. The twitch of his lips gives him away.

“Real funny. You can’t abuse me for telling the truth, Lucas.”

There’s a beat of silence before Luke speaks up. “You really like him—Jace, don’t you?”

That was…unexpected. Michael flounders a little.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “I guess I do.”

Luke stops, turning on the path and forces him to stop in his tracks. In the bright sunlight, his eyes are a light shade of blue as he studies Michael. Then he grins. “That’s such a fucking lie.”

_Fuck._

“You’re not wrong.” Michael admits, wondering where this is going.

Luke snorts, poking his shoulder. “So c’mon, fess up. Are you like, in love with him or something? You kinda look at him like you are.”

Michael almost chokes. _Oh._

“Or something,” he slurs out as quickly as possible and refuses to look at Luke. “Definitely _or something.”_

“Aw,” Luke coos, grinning wide and oh god, _the_ _dimples._ Has Michael ever mentioned that he hates Luke? A lot? “Cute.”

Michael groans internally.

“Shut up, okay, I can’t talk about Jace with you after your little episode.” He runs a hand through his hair, flustered and irritated by the fact that he _is_ flustered. “Uh, I mean, not that I think you hate him now, but you’re not exactly _friends—”_

Luke laughs loudly. “Relax. It’s fine. I think we can be considered friends. He’s alright. Mostly.”

Michael eyes him out of the corner of his eye, perplexed. “Mostly?”

“Well, no. He is, after all, the shitbag who stole my best friend.” Luke’s eyes twinkle in the sunlight and Michael sucks in a breath to stop the strangled sound escaping from his throat. “I can’t just _forgive_ him.”

“I really hate you,” Michael says on a sigh, both because Luke’s an idiot and because he himself can’t get over his feelings, and he also has a few things to say about stealing best friends but decides to keep that to himself.

Luke flashes him an unrepentant grin.

They keep walking, clambering over dunes and chasing each other down the slopes of sand as it crumbles away under their feet, until they slip around the cliff, edging along a narrow strip of rock, water lapping over their feet, before jumping down onto the sand as it gently expands away into a stunning hidden cove.

Massive rocks jut out from the water as the spray flies over them, and the water gleams a rich tropical blue-green under the sun as the waves climb the sand in a swirl of white foam. A cascade of tumbling vines spill over the cliff, stopping just above their heads, little pink flowers braided between waxy green leaves.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and walks a few steps further. He glances behind him and the long stretch of the main beach has disappeared behind the cliff edge. The two of them are completely hidden from view.

Luke grins.

“ _Right?_ Found this place yesterday,” he says, and Michael tries not to feel bitter about the fact that _she_ had probably been here with Luke before him. “Brian and I were running from Matt and Ash, I swear they were trying to kill us, and then ended up here.”

Oh.

They make their way up to the rocks, to the small bit of shade that the cliff offers and Luke spreads out the towel, flopping down onto it.

“You know,” Michael says as they settle with their backs against the cool rock, “You’d get along with Jace if you just gave him a chance.”  He shoves Luke when he flashes him a disbelieving look. Luke flicks sand at him. “ _It’s true,_ you shit,” Michael groans, tossing a handful of sand over Luke’s chest in retaliation. “Everybody else likes him. He’s a good guy.”

Luke is watching him, squinting against the glare off the water, eyes a deep polished blue in the shade, and Michael suddenly can’t remember how to breathe.

_Did you know you break hearts as a hobby? Would you really want to be here with me right now if you knew how in love with you I am?_

Right. Take it off the burner, for fuck’s sake. Michael wonders when he got this melodramatic. It’s not like Luke would suddenly hate him if he clued into Michael’s…feelings.

“Sure he is,” Luke mumbles eventually, finally moving his gaze to the water.

“Give him a chance,” Michael says quietly, tilting his head backwards and brushing away the stray hairs that fly across his face. The breeze cools his heated cheeks. “For me.”

Luke huffs a laugh, a small _huh_ sound filled with contemplation. He hums after a moment. “Fine. For you.”

His eyelids crack open and he looks at his best friend. He snorts lightly. “That’s all it takes? Me pulling out that card? Tch, should’ve known.”

Luke rolls his eyes, turning to catch Michael’s gaze. “Shut up before I change my mind,” he murmurs with a grin and turns his attention back to the waves breaking over the sand.

Saying nothing, Michael studies him through half lidded eyes and heat shimmers in his stomach because he wants to kiss him, so much so that it feels a little like he’s on fire. The breeze suddenly feels hot, like sand being ground into his skin.

Taking a deep breath, Michael turns away to stare out over the ocean as it races towards the horizon.

For fuck’s sake, he needs to get a grip. There’s no way he has the freedom to delve into his stupid fantasies because he’s going to do something that he’ll end up regretting if he lets his heart get the better of him.

“Can you believe the year is over?” Luke asks. “How much stuff did we do…”

Michael deflates with a sigh. “I can’t believe it either. Sure, we did a shit-tonne of stuff but…where did the year even go?”

With a laugh, Luke lets his head roll from side-to-side on the rock behind him. “Must’ve been during those two weeks you were alone without us after losing your passport.”

“Oi, who is it that shook my fucking hand after texting me nonstop every day for those two weeks, _whining_ about playing lead guitar for a _single show?”_

“You don’t know me like that,” Luke sniffs, turning his nose upward, shrieking when Michael lands a punch to his bare stomach. _“Oi, you lunatic!”_

“You _wish_ you knew me like that,” Michael grumbles, crossing his arms.

Luke lets out a loud _hah!_ “There’s nothing I don’t know about you.”

Michael swallows the scoff that builds in his throat with great difficulty, rolling his eyes instead. _Yeah, whatever helps you sleep._

There are sudden dark clouds heading their way from the north with promise of a massive monsoonal downpour as the atmosphere begins to change around them, charging up and sucking the moisture from the air.

It makes Michael’s hair stand on end.

He straightens up, shifting back against the rock to sit up. He pokes Luke’s shoulder. “Yo, reckon we should leave? Those clouds don’t look good.”

“But we just got here,” Luke whines, slipping down the towel and flopping onto his back. “What’s a little rain anyway?”

Michael rolls his eyes and settles back against the cliff as the clouds continue to roll in. “Alright, Bear Grylls. We get caught in a storm, I’m telling Ashton it was your fault. We get sick, I swear I _will_ throw up in your face.”

“Spontaneity, Michael, is the spice of life. Ashton would be proud,” Luke quips with a lazy grin, eyes closed against the sunlight. “And besides, you love Bear Grylls.”

The slow breath Michael takes gets tangled in his vocal chords and he chokes.

_If Luke Hemmings would kindly shut the fuck up, that would be greatly appreciated._

Brushing a hand across his eyes to wipe away the tears that sprung up, Michael scoffs. “If we get struck by lightning, Mr Spontaneous, I’m gonna haunt you in the afterlife.”

Luke laughs out loud, teeth white and cheeks rosy from the rapidly fading sun. His lips are bitten-red and chapped and Michael does not want to feel them under his, _nope_.

“You’ll be stuck with me forever.”

_And you think I’ll complain?_

Michael swallows against that and makes a pained, frustrated noise out loud. “I will literally kill myself again. Living with the devil would be more fun.” 

Blue eyes catch green as Luke opens his eyes and Michael reminds himself that he’s annoyed even as Luke’s eyebrow rises to convey his disbelief. Michael chooses not to rise to the bait and just huffs, crossing his arms again and leaning back against the cliff-face.

The air is cooling fast, clouds moving in rapidly overhead now, sky dark and angry. The sun disappears behind a cloud, swallowed up so suddenly that the change in brightness is startling.

“Once in a lifetime experience,” Luke grins and suddenly he’s sitting up, body angled towards Michael, a grin playing on his lips despite the raindrops starting to fall from the sky. He turns his face up into the rain, childish glee etched into his dimples. “Kinda like falling in love.”

_Right. No._

Michael jumps to his feet, heart throbbing in his throat, and almost runs down to the water line, brain whirring like a distressed beehive. Water chases up around his ankles, lukewarm and soothing as his toes dig into the wet sand, anchoring him to the ground.

_No._

“Mikey?” 

He says nothing. The roar of the sea carries away the small sigh that crawls out of him.

“We should get back,” Luke says from behind him.

Michael spares him a disbelieving glance because he can’t look at him properly right now. “You’re the one who wanted to stay!” He calls over his shoulder, watching the wind whip up white-tipped waves across the Indian Ocean.

There’s distant rumble of thunder. A whip-crack of blinding white across the sky.

Michael spins around at that, goose bumps bursting out over his arms. Luke stares at him with wide, uncertain eyes for a moment.

“Spontaneity is overrated,” Luke says hastily and Michael bursts out laughing, following Luke as he heads to the rock strip.

The two of them are back on the long stretch of beach back to the house within two heartbeats, running hard to beat the looming thunderstorm, when Michael’s foot catches on a shell and he goes crashing face first into the wet sand.

Or he would have if strong hands hadn’t grabbed him, spun him around and held on tight.

Luke is breathing hard, bare chest heaving up and down, a wild look in his dark blue-grey eyes and Michael sucks in the air that had been punched out of his lungs, adrenalin pumping, and grins.

“Thanks.”

Luke blinks, snorting a laugh. “Nice work.”

Michael shakes his head. “Fuck you.”

Luke blinks some more but says nothing.

Michael’s grin starts to fade as Luke remains motionless

“Let go, Luke.”

The clouds are rolling in over their heads, dark and almost bursting with water, like soot-covered, lead-smudged cotton wool. More rain drops begin to fall.

Thunder rumbles and Michael can’t help but flinch because he’s so on edge. He can feel his heartbeat shaking through him before he looks into Luke’s eyes.

Fingers tighten on Michael’s waist as another jagged tear of lightning jumps across the sky.

And as suddenly as the clouds had appeared, the rain buckets down, soaking them in seconds with a roar that harmonises with the surging waves. But neither of them move. Michael is frozen in place by the unreadable expression on Luke’s face.

“Luke.”

His voice is carried away by the rain, drowned out by the thunder crashing nearby. But it’s the storm in Luke’s eyes that draws his attention.

Luke tugs on his waist, pulling him in until he’s almost pressed against his chest with the material of his shirt squelching in his hands, and stares at him, curling tendrils of hair dripping onto Michael’s cheeks.

Michael blinks against the water, licking away the droplets on his lips, confusion and incredulous shock warring inside him. 

Luke’s eyes drop and Michael’s heartbeat is dizzying in his ears.          

He imagines Luke kissing him with the rain pouring down, with the waves crashing in the background, with thunder rumbling overhead like wooden balls rolling across wooden floors.

Lightning throws stark light across their faces.

There’s a rush of noise and Michael’s not sure whether it’s the roaring waves or the blood rushing past his ears but he snaps out of his daze. His fingers find the pulse in Luke’s throat and it’s hammering, fluttering like hummingbird wings.

Luke’s gaze is heavy and searching before a tiny smile buries a dimple into his cheek. His fingers press bruises into Michael’s back.

A sliver of traitorous hope bubbles low in his stomach. _This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This…isn’t REAL._

A gust of wind drives buffeting rain against them and Luke stumbles, dislodging their bodies from each other and cracking the moment in half.

That pulls a laugh out of Michael, half-hysterical, half-relieved— _because what the fuck just happened—_ and he stares through the pelting rain into Luke’s eyes, water streaming from his fading red hair. He pushes the dripping fringe back over his head.

“Now who’s clumsy?” He sniggers, grinning. He feels a little insane.

Luke lets out a giggling laugh. “Fuck off, that wasn’t even me. It was the wind!”

Michael laughs almost helplessly because god, he can’t stop herself from loving this idiot. “Oh yeah, blame the wind. It’s not like you’re six foot or anything. The big bad wind pushed you over.”

“It _did_.”

Sudden light spills into Luke’s eyes, a grin caving dimples deep into his cheeks, and he throws his head back, laughing into the rain. He darts forward to poke Michael hard in the arm before leaping away.

“You’re it!”

An answering grin pulls at Michael’s mouth as he rubs the spot that is definitely going to bruise. “What’re we, _four?!”_ He yells after him.

Luke runs down the waterline, leaving splashes in his wake, face bright as his delighted yells blow out into the open sky. Michael chases after him, trying to keep up as Luke flies across the sand like explosions of lightning, bare footprints washed away by rain and surging waves, and spins and spins in circles in the low tides, arms thrown out and face turned up into the rain.

Lightning blazes on the horizon, jagged silver lines tearing the dark clouds apart.

Luke’s laughter crashes above the sound of the rain and the waves, like thunder to the north, clear and beautiful, and the unease coiled in Michael’s shoulders melts away and the smile on his face widens. He runs at Luke and jumps onto his back, just because he fucking can, laughing while Luke stumbles around to catch his footing.

They get lost in it, in the feeling of being absolutely _free_ , worries of their normal lives washed away by the blanketing rain, and as they sprint down the length of the beach, Michael’s heart thunders in his chest because this is somewhere he never thought he’d be. With _anyone,_ let alone Luke.

They’re laughing breathlessly as they run across the garden, the grass gurgling with water under their feet, and spill into each other as they stumble onto the porch, leaning on each other and shivering with the cool cling of the water soaking them both.

“Well, that was fun,” Michael says as he tries to wipe off the excess water dripping off him, squeezing out his shirt.

Luke grins openly. “Like I said. Spontaneous.” 

Michael is too high on adrenalin and happy hormones to pretend to be frustrated. He laughs. “Spontaneity is overrated, yeah, you said.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s my line, Hemmings.”

They’re dripping bucket loads of water onto the stone, the sea and the rain echoing in their ears as Luke flips him a look.

“Yo, uh…guys?”

Michael startles at the sound of Pete’s voice, spinning around to the patio door as Luke leaps away from him.

The singer is leaning against the doorframe, eyebrow raised. “You went out in this monsoon? Didn’t either of you see the weather forecast?”  

Luke looks at Michael and the two of them burst into laughter again.

“Obviously not.” Pete eyes them but he shrugs it off with a chuckle. “Anyway, Alex and Brian are up there insisting that we have a jam sesh up in the treehouse, you two nutbags interested?”

“Sick!” Luke says, shaking his head. Water flies to all sides. “That’ll be fucking awesome.”

Michael grins, nodding eagerly. “Fuck yes, I’m in.”

Pete grins back. “Awesome—”

“Shit.” Luke suddenly slaps his forehead. “I left the towel at the beach.”

Michael chortles, shaking his head. “Well, fat lotta good it’s gonna be now.”

“I’ll get you towels,” Pete yells over his shoulder as he heads back into the house. “Y’all better be prepared to bring your A-game, I’m challenging all of you to a riff-off.”

“Ten bucks says that Brian beats us all.” Luke murmurs from next to him.

Michael turns to him with a smirk. “Make that twenty, Alex can _sing_.” His money is on Luke.

“You’re going down.”

“I’ll be expecting your money when _I win.”_

 _“Oi, losers,”_ Brian’s voice rings from inside the bamboo house, _“We doing this or what?”_

 

*

Sunlit white cliffs crumble into the sea in the distance, seagulls wheeling over the water with cries that echo off stone as the sun starts to set over the horizon on the last day of another hectic year.

Michael stares over the calm ocean glittering before him in a rare moment of silence, mind completely calm as a gentle breeze ruffles his hair.

_“Hey!”_

A body crashes into him from behind and the sounds of the growing crowd bring him crashing back to reality. Michael lets out an _oof_ as he stumbles forward.

“Brooding by yourself on New Years’ Eve is too far even for you,” Calum says, hanging around his neck.

Michael smiles, hands curling around Calum’s forearms to hold him in place. “I wasn’t. Just thinking about everything that’s happened this year.”

He’s squeezed into a hug from behind. “It’s been an interesting year, hasn’t it?” Calum says quietly, chin resting on Michael’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, eyes on the horizon. “It really has.”

“You two have been doing a very convincing job for the past two weeks, you know?”

Michael laughs. “He’s easy to get along with and he’s always up for whatever. You know he met a guy a few days ago?”

 _“No way,_ seriously?”

“Mmmhmm, yeah, I’ve been side-lined,” Michael snorts. “He’s been sneaking off to hang out with the guy almost every day. You didn’t notice?”

Calum makes an incredulous noise, deflating until his weight is resting on Michael. _“No?_ I just thought he was off studying.”

“Right,” Michael deadpans, chuckling. “Studying. Human anatomy, maybe.”

“So you guys gonna call it off?” Calum asks.

“I guess we’ll see in the new year.”

They stand there for a moment, watching the sun slowly lower towards the sea.

“Well, come on,” Calum says, untangling himself. “We have a party to re-join.” When Michael hesitates, he smiles, reaching down and grabbing his hand. “Everyone’s wondering where you are, Mike.”

Michael smiles helplessly, shaking his head as he lets himself be tugged back down the beach towards the stacked wood pile that would turn into a bonfire as night hit.

 

*

 

The life he leads is interesting, Michael reflects as he looks around at his friends scattered across the width of the beach. When _dress nice_ means thongs, shorts and basketball shirts, where New Year is a chance to get together in front of a giant bonfire on the beach, and the end of another year came around with a sunset so breath-taking it was impossible to photograph.

The pastel purples, pinks fade into fading yellow and burnt orange on the horizon with swatches of cloud suspended above the water. Night is falling quickly, the bonfire blazing to life as a cheer ripples through the people on the beach.

Calum and Ashton are wondering down the beach away from the party, hands swinging between them, Alex shadowing them with his phone held up. Michael shakes his head, wondering how soon that would end up on Instagram and how soon it would be giffed and doing the Tumblr rounds. Michael wishes that Ashton had been serious that night, that he _did_ want to date Calum. They’d be good for each other, he thinks. They already are.  

“I don’t wanna leave,” a voice says and Luke appears next to him holding two bottles of Bintang. He holds one out. “It feels like nothing matters here.”

Michael takes the bottle with a quiet laugh and takes a sip. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, looking back over the waves towards the darkening horizon. “I feel like places like this can’t be real.”

“You look good,” Luke says and he’s smiling, watching him, when Michael throws him a look. “You do! The sunset looks so good on you.”

It feels like every word Michael knows has been stolen right out of his brain and his cheeks heat under amused, affectionate blue eyes. “Fuck off,” he says, shoving their shoulders together. “Don’t you have someone else to flirt with?”

Luke grins. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

Michael really, _really_ wants to punch him. “Yeah, well, you’re annoying and I hate you.”

He’s dragged into a side-hug, almost a cuddle. “Come here, Mikey.” As he struggles for the sake of reputation, Luke squeezes him until he gives in, curling his own arm around Luke’s waist. “So…where’s the boyfriend?”

“He’s talking to his sister,” Michael lies, letting his head rest on Luke’s shoulder. “He’ll be down soon.”

Jace had been on the phone with Peyton when Michael had walked out of their room.

“Cool.” His voice is odd, a little strained and shifty.

“You’re being weird,” Michael mutters, pulling away to look at Luke and catching sight of Arzaylea over Luke’s shoulder. Her expression is _furious_ as she stares at the two of them _._ Blinking, Michael looks back to Luke. “Uh… _why_ are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird!” Luke exclaims, and this time, his voice goes high-pitched like it does when he lies.

Michael yanks himself completely out of Luke’s arms and turns to face him, crossing his arms, keeping a firm hold of the bottle. “You two still haven’t made up.”

“I…” Luke sighs, trailing off. He takes a long swig of the beer and lowers the bottle with screwed up expression. “No. No we haven’t.”

Ignoring the little screaming monster in his chest, Michael shakes his head. “It’s been like, _three_ _days.”_

Luke groans. “I know, _I know…_ I just, I don’t know what to say.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “You say, _I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong, I love you.”_

“But I wasn’t wrong!”

“You idiot, I know that!” Michael laughs aloud. “But girls, dude. You gotta learn.”

“Maybe I should just date a guy,” Luke grumbles, drinking.

Michael chokes. “I’m sorry, _what?”_

His brain spirals back to that evening in the storm, Luke’s dark eyes and the flash to his mouth. _No…right? No. Not a chance…_

But Luke doesn’t get to answer, nor does Michael get to demand answers as Brian and Roy come charging into them with excited yells, knocking bottles out of hands and dragging them back up the beach because _guys, he’s eating fire, actual fucking FIRE, hurry up!_

 

*

 

“THREE…TWO…ONE!”

The sky above the resort explodes, fireworks lighting up the midnight stretch of sky with wheels and flowers of reds, golds, blues and greens. A high-pitched whistling fills the air before it bursts, leaving a waterfall of shimmering silver cascading into the sea.

_“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”_

Cheers burst from the crowd, applause and whistles littered through the thunderous roar, and Michael is yanked away from the show by an insistent hand on his arm just as a plume of orange-pink shoots upward, sparkles raining down over the ocean.

Jace is grinning at him when he finally manages to tear his eyes away from the sky. Smoke drifts down over the crowd, the atmosphere hypnotising as the strobe lights flash through hazy white.

“One more kiss for old time’s sake? Besides, your friends will think something’s off if we don’t.”

Michael raises an eyebrow but throws his arms dramatically over Jace’s shoulders. “What’re you waiting for, then? Happy New Year, _babe.”_

There’s a fond shake of his head before Jace leans forward. “Happy New Year, rockstar,” he says and presses his mouth to Michael’s in a chaste, simple kiss.

When Michael pulls away, Jace chuckles lightly. “Guess it really is a new year,” he says. “I don’t feel sick wishing this was real anymore.”

Michael grins as he turns to wish the others and stills, a rock dropping in his stomach as his eyes fall on the frozen figure watching them from a few metres away, a rapidly fading smile on his face. “Uh…is that…”

Jace follows his gaze and Michael’s guilt triples when his expression falls, eyes going wide.

It is.

Michael is yet to meet Peyton from Boston and this is not the way he’d wanted to meet him. His throat burns with acid as the light dies in Peyton’s eyes.

“Peyton,” Jace starts to say, stepping forward. “It’s not—”

But Peyton’s shell-shocked expression starts to crumple as he turns and walks away, disappearing into the throng of people crowded onto the makeshift dancefloor on the sand.

_“Peyton, wait!”_

Jace rips himself out of Michael’s arms, sprinting after the vanishing figure, stopping abruptly as he loses sight of Peyton’s dark hair in the crowd. Michael’s stomach rolls.

 _Fuck._ It’s barely been two minutes into the new year and he’s already fucking things up.

“He probably wanted to surprise me,” he says numbly when Michael gathers up the courage to approach him. The laugh he lets out is pained. “He wanted to surprise me and when he showed up…I was kissing you.”

“I—”

“I’m gonna go back to the room,” Jace mutters, interrupting him, shoulders drooping. “Don’t really feel like celebrating.”

Michael wishes that he would be mad at him. That he would yell and scream and call Michael a soul-sucking life-ruiner. But no, instead, Jace gives him a tired, heart-breaking smile and turns back towards the villas. That’s when Michael loses it.

“No.” He grabs Jace’s arm, swinging him around to face him. The other boy stares at him in shock. _“No,_ okay? Go after him, Jay! You can’t let this stop you! For fuck’s sake, it’s all just a big misunderstanding, right? _Right?_ ” When Jace nods hesitantly, he throws up his hands. “Go!”

Jace doesn’t move for a moment. “But—”

“No,” Michael says immediately and forcibly turns Jace in the direction Peyton had gone. “No _buts,_ Jay, _please._ Don’t let me ruin your life anymore, alright? Go find him.”

Jace’s wide eyes reflect the flames from the nearby bonfire. A quick smile crosses his lips before he takes off, throwing himself into the crowd with a yell that seems to echo above the now thumping music as Calvin Harris blasts over the speakers on the sand.

_“Peyton!”_

With a deep breath, Michael crosses his fingers and prays for a New Year’s miracle.

He accidentally catches Luke’s eyes across the bonfire as he turns away and he smiles, powerless to it, as Luke’s eyes flicker with the leaping flames.

“Happy New Year,” he mouths.

Luke grins, nodding. So, he hadn’t noticed the drama. That’s a blessing in itself. “You too,” he says back.

She taps his cheek then, demanding attention, and when Luke turns to her, she turns her face upward and Michael turns away, swallowing thickly. They had patched things up, then.

 _It’s a new year,_ he reminds himself. _It’s a new year._ But his brain replays the scene from earlier. _Maybe I should just date a guy,_ Luke’s voice echoes in his ears.

His stomach turns over. God, _what the fuck_ had that been about?

Calum and Ashton are sitting squashed together on a log, laughing with whoever from their group wasn’t dancing, and Michael glances once more in the direction Jace had left before moving to join the rest of the bonfire party.

 

*

 

When the hotel room door creaks open at six forty a.m. and Jace walks in, Michael is still awake with the lights on. How could he have slept, with Jace missing, having messed up his life _even more_ than he already had?

Jace stills when he sees Michael sit up, but he shuts the door and comes to perch on the edge of the bed. Michael’s head spins a little at the unreadable expression, throat closing, but it cracks, a grin spreading across Jace’s face, giving way to dimples and sparkling eyes, and Michael deflates, falling backward onto the bed with a loud exhale.

“Oh thank fucking _god.”_

A laugh leaps out of Jace as he pats Michael’s shin. “I told him that I was helping out a friend,” he says, chuckling. “That my friend is hopelessly in love with his best friend so there’s no need to worry.”

Michael groans, rubbing both hands down his face and staring at the ceiling. “I don’t fucking care what you told him, as long as he took that golden opportunity and kissed you.”

“Oh he did,” Jace murmurs, rubbing a thumb across his reddened lower lip. “I think my lips are actually bruised.”

Michael arches an eyebrow and grins.  

“I really did hate you in that moment,” he says after a beat of silence, tousling his already very messy hair. “But, I couldn’t keep hating you when it wasn’t your fault.”

Michael sits up slowly, tangling his fingers into the sheets beside his legs. “I wanted you to hate me, but…I’m really glad you don’t,” he replies with a quiet sound. The low hum of the ever-present guilt still writhes in his chest. “It was my fault though.”  

“Maybe,” Jace relents, rolling his eyes fondly when Michael mutters a quiet _thank god_ under his breath. “I said _maybe,_ you asshole, and it’s fine, Peyton and I are fine, so stop blaming yourself. Point is, you and I are in this together and, for some godforsaken reason, I’m actually rather fond of you.”

With a surprised laugh, Michael pats Jace’s hand. “You _liked_ me not three days ago.”

“Yeah but then I met the human embodiment of a _God_.” Jace bites his lip. “Besides, I still like you, just…less.”

“I know, it’s okay. I guess the most important thing is that you and Peyton made up.”

“So did Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” Jace says, tone unimpressed. He glances at Michael and makes a face. “Saw them wrapped up together out near the pool when I came in.”

Michael rolls his eyes heavenward. “Yeah. That much I do know. It’s…” he waves a hand, shrugging. “It’s fine, I really don’t—at this point, I almost wish he _knew_ so I didn’t have to swallow my feelings all the fucking time.”

“I’m gonna say something and I need you to promise me to listen, alright?”

“I’m listening! I listen to you!” Jace shoots him a look and he falls silent sheepishly. “Sorry…Fine, I promise.”

“Good. Alright. I know you don’t want to consider this, but I think, and I’m certain that I’m right, that Luke—”

Michael’s heart clenches. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “No, Jace—”

Jace catches his waving hands, stilling them between their legs. “You promised, man.”

With a tight sigh, he nods.

“Luke has feelings for you,” Jace says immediately. “Don’t brush this off, okay? I’m telling you this, as a friend and as someone who can hopefully get through to you, if Calum is to be trusted.” He chucks Michael’s chin up and forces him to catch steady blue eyes. “Luke Hemmings? Yeah, he has feelings for you.”

_Maybe I should just date a guy._

Michael opens his mouth to protest again, the unforgiving tightness in his lungs making it hard to breathe, but Jace shuts him up with a look.

“I’ve been watching him for over two weeks,” he continues, untangling their hands. He laughs, shaking his head in exasperation. “He forgets I exist as soon as he has your attention and yeah, it annoyed me a bit at first but it gave me a chance to suss him out. It’s funny, I don’t think he realises how different he acts with you and how you act with him.”

“Jace—”

“He puts up with so much shit from you that he doesn’t take from other people without a fight, no matter how much banter it is. And you give him so much crap but as soon as someone else says one wrong word to him, you’re ready to go to war, and _I know,_ ” he looks up and shoots Michael a look of fond frustration, “I know you’d do the same for all your friends but there’s something different about it with Luke. You’re possessive as _fuck.”_

Jace reaches out to push Michael’s jaw closed with a grin. “Point is, he likes you. Will you keep this in mind while we continue with this ridiculous charade until such time that both of you get your heads out of your asses?”  

Michael flops back onto the bed with a long groan, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I really fucking hate you.”

A bright laugh. “Calum practically begged me to knock some sense into you, so maybe you should take it up with him.”

“Surprised it wasn’t Ashton,” Michael mutters under his breath. He was going to have a _talk_ with Calum later.

“I’m sure he would have,” Jace replies softly, surprisingly. “But…he was dealing with some stuff.”

He lowers his hands, not missing the past tense, and raises an eyebrow only to get a gentle head shake in return.

“He’ll tell you when he’s ready. Just…keep doing what you’re doing, he really appreciates it.”

Michael stares at the ceiling. “You’re the psychologist, I guess.”

Jace laughs. “Yeah, maybe. But you’re a good thing, Mike, people need you in their lives.” Just as Michael starts to say _aww,_ Jace continues. “To give them shit for their fuck-ups and text them outdated memes at three in the morning.”

“Get out of my hotel room, traitor.”

Jace cackles as he stands up. “No way, I need to shower first and this is my hotel room too. But FYI, doge was over two years ago.”

Michael grabs a pillow and throws it at his irritating fake boyfriend. He misses. “I hope you drown in the shower. No one insults Pepe. Luke doesn’t insult Pepe.”  

“Of course he doesn’t,” Jace scoffs, as he heads for his suitcase. “He thinks the sun shines out of your ass.”

This time, the pillow is right on target and Jace’s yelp is sweet, _sweet_ music to Michael’s ears.

 

*

 

Luke is laughing, voice slurring with amusement. Michael smiles to himself as they walk along the stretch of beach back to the resort, fingers tapping on his thigh, glad that this last day before they left was ending on a good note.

That almost-kiss seems a life time away, blurred by the haze of the new year, and he has never been more glad to bury a memory.

“It’s not that funny,” he says eventually as Luke continues to giggle under his breath, the sound carrying around them on the salty ocean breeze. “Stop laughing!”

Luke rolls his eyes at him, profile lit up from the setting sun, hair golden and wind-ruffled as he chuckles. “It is. You’re such a nerd.”

“And you’re a terrible friend,” Michael shoves at him with his shoulder, sending him stumbling into the gentle tides.

He grins as Luke’s startled yell rings around them, laughing bubbling out as Luke manages to straighten himself before leaping at Michael and trying to slip his footing on the wet sand. Michael blows out a breath, fingers tight around Luke’s forearms, huffing with breathless laughter when Luke digs his fingers into his side.

“Fuck, not fair!”

“All’s fair,” Luke pants, wrestling as Michael’s grip slips to his wrist and they twist together over the sand, “in love,” he manages a teasing jab at Michael’s stomach, “and war.”

Michael reels a little at the words, eyes stuck on Luke’s flushed cheeks and spilling hair, the laughing glint in blue-grey eyes, and he’s startled back to Jace’s firm conclusion as he goes sprawling onto the sand in that moment of weakness as Luke hooks a leg behind his knees and _yanks._

_Maybe I should just date a guy._

_Luke Hemmings? Yeah, he has feelings for you._

He swipes the sand off his face, rolling over and over and finally landing on his back, sand cascading out of his hair. Michael flops onto his back completely, staring up at the purple-orange sky arching over them.

_He couldn’t. He really—could he?_

Their laughter billows around them. Michael wants to bottle up the carefree sound up and treasure it till he’s old and grey.

Luke is doubled over, hands braced on his knees, cackling. He looks up finally when Michael cranes his neck to watch him, smile bright and relaxed, dimples deep. Michael wants to fall asleep in the gentle curve of them.

“Gotcha,” Luke says eventually, stretching back up.

And yeah. He did get Michael, in more ways than one. If only he’d open his fucking eyes and _see_ that.

Michael huffs and collapses back onto the sand. Eyelids falling halfway, he watches as Luke turns towards the water, tall and broad against the sunset, and Michael’s chest aches in the worst-best way.

_Fuck, I love you._

The words echo in his head, hot and steady in the beat of his heart and the upward tug of his lips. He swallows past the thickness in his throat.

“Hey, I,” he starts to say but a shout comes from further up the beach and whatever confession Michael had been about to make is lost to the ocean breeze.

They turn towards the sound and he pushes himself up onto his feet when he realises that it had come from Ashton.

Ashton who, now, is racing after Jace as he lopes towards them, sharing a frantic conversation with Calum beside him.

Michael takes a few startled steps forward towards them before he sees the raw fury burning in Jace’s reddened face, eyes glinting hard in the harsh light from the red glow of the sun, as he stalks up to them.

“Hey—” Michael starts to say but stops in his tracks, jaw dropping, as Jace stalks right past him and punches Luke right across the face.

A strangled sound makes it past Michael’s mouth as Luke crumples onto the sand, a hand pressed to his reddening cheek.

“Get the fuck up, you fucking asshole!” Jace yells, edged and icy, slurred. “Get the fuck up!”

Luke’s shoulders are set, a muscle ticking in his jaw, as he spits to the side and pulls himself up. “What the fuck?”

The laugh that rips out of Jace can barely be described as a laugh. It’s a mad sound that claws through the air, humourless, bitter and primal. _“’What the fuck?’”_ He takes a step right into Luke’s space. It’s terrifying and Michael can’t move, he can’t make a sound as he watches his best friend take an involuntary step back. “What the fuck? You tell me, you spineless fucking _coward!”_

The last word is spat right into Luke’s face and Michael inhales sharply when Luke flinches, swatting away the spittle and pushing right back into Jace’s space.  

“ _Coward?”_

Michael can’t move, he can’t breathe as Luke takes a swing at Jace, catching his jaw before Jace knees him in the stomach. It turns Michael’s stomach. Luke goes stumbling backward.

“You act—” Jace curses when Luke swings back around, his fist crunching across Jace’s mouth. Blood drips down his chin. “You act fucking cocksure when you have no _idea_ what you’re doing—”

“What the fuck are you _talking_ about?” Luke hisses.

Jace spits, teeth bared in a twisted grimace. “You have everything, and you still have no fucking clue about the best thing in your life and it’s right in front of your fucking face! You wouldn’t know a good thing if it fucking punched you in your pretty face, you blind-ass cu—”

He’s cut off as Luke’s fist sinks into his side, hacking out a choked cough. But as Luke rounds back, Jace isn’t done. He spits out sludge, splattering the sand with blood. He heaves a dark, amused laugh, teeth smudged with live red.

“He’s your _best friend,”_ Jace says, words slurring together, and swings out, managing to clip Luke’s mouth. “Do you have any idea what you’re _doing_ to him—”

Michael starts running.

There are hands suddenly on him, breathless apologies in his ear but Michael can’t understand and he leans forward, away from the tightening grip on his arms and he isn’t aware that he’s yelling until Calum is suddenly in front of him, brown eyes clear.

“— _Michael, stop!_ You can’t go in there, stop!”

“They’re going to fucking kill each other!” He screams, tearing at Calum’s fingers. “What the fuck is Jace doing—?!”

“Calm down, okay, Jace is drunk! He’s _drunk,”_ Calum hisses, pulling at his shoulders, “Ashton’s— _Ashton!”_

Calum’s bellow deafens them, startling even Luke and Jace, and Ashton manages to grab Jace around the middle in that split-second of diversion, hauling him away from Luke before they can cause more damage, whispering at him in furious tones.

Michael can only stare, hands slack on Calum as he moves to the side, at the busted lip and bleeding nose Jace is sporting. His heart hammers in his chest.

“Jay—” he manages, reaching past Calum.

“No,” Jace gasps, quiet and pained as Ashton holds him up, and clutches at his jaw with a grimace. “Fuck, _shit_ —no. Go. Go with _him_.”

Michael follows the hand jerked to where Luke is doubled over, this time in pain, amusement nowhere in sight, cheek swollen and turning purple, a cut across his lip that’s oozing blood across his mouth, red smearing across his chin as he drags a hand over his lips.

Blood rushes past Michael’s ears, breath rasping along his throat, and Calum squeezes his arms, eyes warm and gentle when Michael looks at him.

“Go. Get him patched up. He’ll be okay, Michael.”

Michael heaves a breath, deflating with a nod. “Yeah,” he says, throat thick as he realises that its _fear,_ fear for _Luke,_ that’s pumping through his veins. “Yeah, okay.”

Jace flashes a weak smile at him as he’s led away and Michael only nods before he’s curling an arm around Luke’s shoulders and helping him towards the hotel.  

 

*

 

Neither of them speak a word until the door to Michael’s hotel room shuts with click.

“You alright?” The words are stilted, perfunctory, and Michael cringes as they fall out of his mouth as if rushing off a cliff like a waterfall. They crash into the jagged rocks at the bottom.  

Luke looks at him. His eyes are the kind of blue that ballads are written about. The kind of blue that incites wars. Michael understands, in that moment of startling clarity, how a person’s beauty can herald war.

“Right.” Michael moves to his suitcase, yanking hard at the zip, hating the way his hands shake and hating the zipper’s refusal to move. “ _Fuck.”_

The touch on his shoulder is unexpected and he turns slowly around, catching Luke’s eyes. Luke says nothing although he drops his hand.  

“Luke,” Michael breathes out, fighting the urge to stroke the swelling cheek and cradle Luke’s jaw in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

Again, Luke says nothing. Just watches Michael with that disconcerting look in his eyes, the burning blue concentrated so hard on him that Michael thinks he might just burst into flames. Luke’s eyes dip for all of one second to his mouth before they lift back up.

When Luke moves, all Michael can do is draw in a startled breath.

_Maybe Jace is right._

Michael’s stomach churns as Luke’s hands bury into his hair, the scrape of nails sending shivers down his spine, lips insistent on his for a moment and breath searing as Luke draws back with a rasping sound before pulling Michael back in.

And Michael hates himself for giving in, hates himself for the way his fingers curl into the back of Luke’s t-shirt, for the way he tumbles forward until their chests press together, for the way his mouth drags against Luke’s, hot and wet and everything he’s ever wanted.

He shouldn’t. But he can’t stop. The terror that had tightened his chest twists in desperate coils.

It’s nothing and everything like the first kiss Michael had always imagined and he groans as his back hits the wall beside the bed, as the sting vibrates and pools, heated and jittery, at the bottom of his spine.

The kiss tastes like rusted iron, the cut on Luke’s lip reopening when Michael tugs on it.

“ _Luke,”_ he gasps as they pull apart with a slick sound and Luke freezes under his hands.

It takes two seconds for Luke to be across the room, almost like he’d flown back, pressed against the table on the other side of the hotel room, white-knuckled grip on the chair. There’s horror and devastation stitched into every crease in his face and disbelief shines clear in dark blue eyes, spit-slick, bleeding mouth dropped open, chest heaving.

Michal feels the other shoe drop like an anvil onto his slowly shattering heart, splintering it into shards, a smashed crystal vase bouncing off the floor, as he stares at Luke’s obvious, growing dismay.

“Luke—”

Michael’s voice catches hard in his throat, a wheezing, strangled sound like an old machine, when Luke makes an aborted movement, stiffening in place as Luke breaks the penetrating contact of their eyes and rushes towards the door.

“Wait, you’re—”

Michael can only watch as Luke disappears.

The slam of the door resonates through him, chest aching and eyes stinging as he flinches hard, arms wrapping around his stomach.

“—injured.”

The abrupt emptiness of the room rings in his ears and the only thing that’s convincing Michael that Luke was ever there is the ghost of his fingers in Michael’s hair and the horror in Luke’s eyes burning behind his eyelids, the blood smudged over his mouth.

Suddenly, the stagnant heat of Bali seems to evaporate and Michael shivers before crumpling, knees giving out as he slides down against the wall. 

_Shit._

Angry, burning tears slip out of his eyes, down his cheeks and drip off his chin, soaking into the neckline of his shirt. He can feel all the places where sand grinds against his skin. The uneasiness it brings is almost sweet.

His head hits the wall with a thump. Again. And again.

Stupid. He’d be so _stupid._ He should never have—

_FUCK._

His mouth tastes like blood and _Luke_ and he gags _._ Bile rises in his throat, sour, acidic, and Michael lets out a harsh, shuddering breath, swallowing hard before he ruins the floor.

What the fuck is he going to do now? 

 

*****

Michael sits there and he doesn’t know how much time passes until Calum comes to find him with Ashton trailing behind him. His expression is subdued, hands sliding under Michael’s armpits as he helps Michael off the floor and onto the bed, gesturing at Ashton to grab a bottle of water before he wipes Michael’s mouth with a damp tissue.

It comes away stained in red.

“What happened?” Calum’s voice is subdued, eyes raking over Michael’s face.

He can’t make his voice work, throat clenched tight.

“Jace is okay, he’ll heal,” Ashton says when the silence stretches. “I haven’t seen Luke though, he—”

“He kissed me,” Michael whispers hoarsely, eyes on the floor. His entire body aches.

Calum stiffens. Ashton makes a pained sound.

“I think,” Calum says, leaning forward onto his knees as he sits beside Michael, “It’s time to tell Ashton the whole story.”

Michael looks up and smiles, a twisted thing that makes Calum flinch. “Right.”

Ashton sits on his other side, warm and firm, comforting. His hazel eyes are sad when Michael catches them and it makes his stomach turn to see it. He _hates_ it when Ashton is upset.  

“I told you, Mike, you can tell me anything.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah...
> 
> WELL?!?!?!?! PLEASE COME YELL/SCREAM/CRY WITH ME 
> 
> I've had the last few scenes written for over a year...so here is my child, please treat it carefully. 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING Y'ALL!! All the love <3


	16. Holding on to memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER 16!!! Also, guys, 400 kudos??? What the actual hell??? I'm so incredibly grateful to every single one of you, you make it so enjoyable to keep writing. So thank you so much and I love you. 
> 
> Alright, bare with me, it's 5am rn. Ehhhh...oh yeah! I'm sorry in advance for any typos, grammatical errors etc. etc. I will edit at some point, I swear. 
> 
> Other than that, I hope this chapter isn't a tragedy! Much to all of you beautiful people <3 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Ashton had taken it shockingly well, despite the deepening disappointed furrow of his eyebrows as the explanation had gone on. Michael is just grateful that it hadn’t involved any yelling.

Calum and Ashton had gone in search of Luke after Michael insisted, promising that he was fine and that he would go straight to Jace. But now, as he knocks on Ashton’s hotel room door and waits for Jace to answer, the ice in his bones still sits stiff and uncomfortable.

When the door opens, it’s to a wincing Jace. “Hey,” he says quietly, voice roughened, and steps aside to let Michael through. “I guess you want an explanation. But, uh, is Luke okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael’s mouth says for him and he’s glad, because he doesn’t know what answer he would have come up with otherwise. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. He studies the man in front of him, eyeing the butterfly bandages and mottled purple-blue skin. “You still drunk?”

“No.” Jace grimaces as he settles on a chair, a hand pressed to his side. “It’s been hours, Mike.”

“Then, yeah,” he says quietly. “I’d like an explanation.”

“Okay.”

Michael goes to stand by the window overlooking dark jungle and the ocean glistening under a half-moon hanging low in the sky.

“I’m not great at apologies,” Jace starts quietly, behind him. “But, I had too much beer and Luke was just, he was _so fucking oblivious_ to the longing and pain in your eyes and, _God,_ Michael, I felt like I was boiling and I couldn’t help it. I just…he’s your best friend, how can he—” Jace sucks in a shaky breath. “Anyway…I’m sorry if you’re angry and I’m sorry if he’s hurt badly, but I don’t think I can be sorry for punching him. I _care_ about you.”

Jace looks at him helplessly when he turns around, eyes shining.

Michael doesn’t think he can be angry, even if he tried. Exhaustion wars with the confusion and numbness for a place in his body, leaden in his head as he tries to wrestle the desperate memory of the kiss into a box and shut the lid. It spills through the cracks.

He has no energy left to _feel_ anymore.

Michael’s knees feel shaky and he stumbles backward to collapse onto the bed. “Well,” he says with a weak laugh, “At least there’s something you’re not good at.”

Jace’s answering laugh is feeble and a bit reedy.

“But, apology accepted.” Michael rubs his palms down his face and braces his arms on the mattress, curling his fingers into the sheets. “He’s not the only one hurt. He hit back just as hard as you hit him. Are you okay?”

Jace’s eyes widen and he sits up a little straighter, hand still pressed to his ribs. “Am I—are _we_ okay?” He asks, bewildered.

“Oh, right,” Michael shakes his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness. He looks up, catching wide blue eyes and smiles tiredly. “We were never not okay, Jay. I’m not mad.”

“You’re _not?”_

“No, ‘course not. How can I be mad that you care about me enough to get into a fight and not care that you’ve gotten hurt over it?”

Jace’s eyes glitter. “He’s not just someone, rockstar. You’re in love with him.” He looks down at the swollen knuckles of his right hand, the cuts etched into them, and lets out an amused puff of air. “I punched a wall, you know, after that. Ashton threatened to take me to the ER. Point is, I’ll take the injuries. You’re worth it.”

Michael takes in a slow, shuddery breath, lips tingling. “Yeah.”

He shakes off the shroud that settles on his shoulders and shrugs. He knows his best friends would set the world alight for him. He would do the same for them. But he never thought someone else would ever slip into that little box, never thought anyone else would feel like they needed to. But here Jace was, a fire in his eyes and the battle wounds to prove it. Grossly inarticulate is how he feels in that moment.

“I’m not angry, alright?”  

“Alright. But…are _you_ okay?” Jace asks slowly, shifting in his seat and sitting up. “You’re a little pale.”

Phantom fingers pull at his hair and Michael rolls his shoulders as an arctic wind shivers down his spine.

 _Luke kissed me and I kissed back._ The words ache under his tongue, heavy and bittersweet like he’s been sucking on burnt toffee. _He kissed me like he was drowning and he left me there with his blood on my mouth and his regret choking me like a zip tie around my throat._

“I’m fine, Jay,” he says instead. Jace has been through enough today. “It’s the lighting,” he jokes lightly, nodding at the white overhead light. When Jace laughs, low and soothing, Michael’s shoulders relax. “So…Peyton doing okay?”

Jace launches into a wild story of how Peyton had apparently almost fallen down a waterfall and Michael listens with a small smile on his face. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

 

_From: Ash US work_

_Luke’s patched up, sleeping_

_Stay with Jace in mine if you want_

_I’ll stay with Cal_

_Night, Mike_

 

*

 

“You gonna be okay, buddy?”

Michael fiddles with his passport and glances out of the corner of his eye at Ashton. He shrugs.

Denpasar Airport bustles around them, flights called over the PA system, the clicking of suitcase wheels over tiles, voices saying goodbye. The four of them, Roy and Jace were the last to catch flights home or back to LA. Everyone else had flown back last night, and for that Michael had never been more grateful for not having people around to ask questions that none of them wanted to answer.

A sigh flows out of Ashton and he drapes an arm over Michael’s shoulders. “You’ll be back home soon, just…let him sort himself out.”

He lets a sharp breath out through his nose. “I should have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have kissed back.” He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. _“Fuck,_ I should have stopped him.”

Ashton squeezes the back of his neck. “Maybe, but he must’ve done it for a reason.”

 _“Don’t,”_ Michael snaps as that same traitorous shadow of emotion from the beach sparks inside his chest.

He stamps it down as Jace wonders into his line of sight with his bruised face buried in his phone and a smile pulling at his lips. The cut on his upper lip glares a black-red against the pale pink of the rest. There’s a butterfly bandage on his jaw, another on his left cheek.

Ashton makes a considering noise but doesn’t pull his arm away.

Michael deflates, taking advantage of Ashton’s strength to prop himself up. “Sorry. It’s just—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Ashton says with a soft laugh. “I get it.”  He follows Michael’s eyes to Jace. “You tell him yet? About what happened after the fight?”

Michael shakes his head. “I didn’t want to ruin the holiday for him any more than I already have. He’s been texting Peyton non-stop for the past few hours. He’s happy, _finally,_ and I need someone to be happy right now after all the shit that’s happened in the past couple of days…weeks.”

“You’re a giant marshmallow,” Ashton says, pinching his waist with his free hand. “Our girls aren’t wrong.”

Michael shoots him a look. _“Our girls?”_

Ashton grins at him. “The fans.”

“Shut the fuck up, oh my god, you giant dork,” he groans, laughing despite himself. “Fuck you, go and find Calum and Roy. Your flight leaves in like, fifteen.”

“Love you too, babe,” Ashton licks out, winking as he pulls away from the cuddle and gets to his feet. “I’ll tell Cal you said the same. Make sure you tell Jace about the thing.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, leave before you miss the damn flight.”

Ashton salutes with a snarky smile and walks away with his carry-on to find Calum, who was likely buying coffee somewhere near the boarding gate and gossiping with Roy like the housewives they are.

He walks up to Jace and comes to a stop in front of him with a grin curling up into his cheek. When Jace doesn’t even glance up, Michael’s grin widens. “Should I be jealous?”

Jace’s head snaps up, a dark flush burning across the high of his cheeks. “What—oh, Michael! Hey!”

Michael eyes him, amused. “How’s Peyton?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm, ‘kay,” Michael says, grinning. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Jace looks up again from his phone where his gaze had wondered once again, a frown etching lines across his forehead. “No…? Did I leave something at the hotel?”

Michael chuckles and points at the digital screen where the LA via Hong Kong flight had flipped to _final call._ “You’re about to miss the flight.”

“Oh _fuck,”_ Jace curses, patting his pockets frantically and finally pulling his passport out of his interior jacket pocket, the boarding pass poking out the top. “Shit, shit, shit!”

_“Final call for passengers on flight CX863 to Hong Kong. Please proceed immediately to Gate 12.”_

As the announcement repeats in Indonesian, Michael yanks him in for a hug before Jace can run off, squeezing him tight. “Thanks for coming, Jay. I’ll see you back in LA.”

Jace slows down in that moment, hugging him back hard and pushing back to smile, before grimacing and touching his injured lip with a tentative finger. “With you till the end of the line, pal.” When Michael hangs his head and groans at the reference, Jace cackles. He pulls back, lifting Michael’s chin up, voice dropping low. “Your boy’s watching.”

Michael’s heart seizes up in his chest. “Let him,” he bites out, catching Jace’s wide blue eyes when he looks back at him.

Jace presses a lightning quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before he steps out of Michael’s grip. He shoulders his bag and takes a couple of steps in the direction of his gate before turning around.

“You’re telling me everything as soon as I land, got it?”

He doesn’t even try to protest, because Jace had been blathering on about micro-expressions the other day while studying for a quiz he would have when he got back, and waves a hand, watching as Jace turns around to sprint down the terminal, a hand supporting his bruised side.

Michael goes back to his seat, three down from Luke, copies him and stuffs his own headphones over his ears and lets Chad Kroeger drown out his thoughts.

 

*

 

Calum texts him ten minutes before their flight is set to take off for Sydney, obviously having paid for on-board Wi-Fi. Michael isn’t in the least bit surprised.

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_Talk to him_

 

As usual, Calum is trying to play the mediator, even from hundreds of kilometres away. Michael glances at Luke out of the corner of his eye, studying the way he is angled away from Michael, leaning against the opposite arm of the plane seat with his earphones tucked in to his ears. He thinks that Luke would be on the other side of the cabin if given the chance.

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_Don’t think he’s in the mood to talk_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_Don’t talk about_ that.

_Bring up something else_

 

He rolls his eyes. Easy for _him_ to say. Calum didn’t make out with his best friend and have him run out of the room with regret written all over his face.

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_Like what? The weather?_

_Hey Luke, I know we haven’t talked in almost twenty-four fucking hours but isn’t the weather lovely today!_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_-_-_

_Why are you like this_

_Ask him how he is???_

“Mum wants to have you guys over for dinner on Friday.”

Michael jumps out of his skin, almost dropping his phone, and looks up from Calum’s text to Luke’s emotionless face.

“What?” He all but gapes.

“Dinner,” Luke says, shrugging.  “On Friday, at our place.”

He catches Michael’s eyes and although his face remains unreadable, Michael can see the emotions in his eyes, the plea to leave everything unsaid, to take the olive branch for what it is.

“I…yeah,” he says, baffled but also somewhat relieved that he didn’t have to make the first move. “Yeah, mum and dad will love that.”

Luke flashes a brief, small smile and turns back to his phone.

Michael stares at him for a few moments, trying to see if he can get a look into the inner workings of Luke’s mystifying brain.

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_…uh_

 

After a few minutes of Michael tapping his fingers on his thigh impatiently, Calum’s reply comes in, just as the plane begins moving out of the gate.

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_What did he say??_

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_Dinner at his house on Friday_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_So LIZ invited you_

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_He’s trying to forget it happened_

_Probs the best idea_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_You realise if you don’t talk, this is going to be MUCH WORSE, right?_

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_I’d rather stick knives into my balls_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_Have fun at dinner_

_Tell Karen and Liz their sons are absolute fucking idiots_

 

Michael snorts under his breath.

 

_To: Calum US Work_

_Fly safe, asshole_

_Text me when you get to LA_

 

_From: Calum US Work_

_YOU text me when you get home, I wanna know how mamma and papa Clifford are doing_

_Ash is snoring on my shoulder_

_…there’s drool_

_Attachment 1.jpeg_

 

Michael laughs, nudging Luke in the ribs to show him the last couple of messages and the included photograph before he realises what he’s doing. “Hey Luke, check th—oh.” He freezes. “Uh…”

The shock on Luke’s face is only there for a moment before the hard lines soften and a grin lights up his face. He leans into Michael’s space, reading Calum’s replies, and laughs with a hand pressed under the split lip. The Band-Aid over his cheek is a stark white under the cabin lights, mottled deep purple bruising surrounding it.

“What a trust.”

“Hope Calum packed an extra shirt in his duffel,” Michael says, managing to get his throat working in time.

After that, the flight is comfortable and almost normal. Michael manages to get in a few solid hours of sleep. Shockingly.

 

*

 

The moment his mother sets eyes on him, it’s all over. She makes them both a cup of strong coffee, adds a dash of whiskey and sits him on the couch before settling herself down and turning a strong, expectant eye on him.

The thing is, Michael has never lied to his mother. His dad is easy-going but his mother is a force to be reckoned with, is Mamma Clifford. So, except for that period of time in year nine where he had lied to every person he knew about the having-a-raging-crush-on-Luke thing, he’s never lied to his mum. Maybe it’s the Irish coffee. But whatever it is, as he gotten older, he’s come to realise what a blessing total transparency is.

And so, with his fingers wrapped tight around the mug and whiskey warming his stomach, the whole tragic story comes spilling out. Piece by agonising piece, Michael pulls the events out of his mouth, cheeks flushed and ears hot as his mother’s eyebrows rise to her hairline. The whole story takes the better part of an hour.

“And now everything is completely fucked up and Luke—”

A soft hand on his arm has his rambling sentence end abruptly and Michael gasps, air flowing into his lungs and making him sag back into the couch to take a sip of the spiked coffee and stare the whipped cream floating around in the drink.

“Clearly feels something for you because people don’t go around kissing people they don’t have feelings for,” his mother says patiently, smiling when Michael looks up at her with a sharp snap of his head.

“It was just the adrenalin, mum—”

“ _Michael._ I don’t know about adrenalin but there’s always been something there, or did you think your old mum didn’t notice?”

Michael takes a large gulp of his drink to avoid his mother’s knowing eyes.

She laughs, patting his arm. “Luke might have shot up like a bean sprout and grown into a confident, handsome young man, but he looks at you the same way he’s done since he was fifteen years old.”

He chokes, inhaling hot coffee through his nose and splutters as it comes dripping back out. Wiping his face with the neck of his shirt, Michael groans. _“Mum.”_

Karen Clifford grins for a moment. “Look, honey,” she says, voice soft, “I know you’re confused and hurt but talking to Luke is the only way both of you can sort this out.”

“He doesn’t want to talk, mum,” he murmurs, resting his head on the couch. “He made that very clear.”

“I raised you with more perceptiveness than that,” his mum says, unimpressed. He gets a tap to the side of his head. “He’s in the same situation as you are. I’ll give you till Friday to think about it, but when we go for dinner, you will talk to him.”

There is no room for argument and Michael knows when to give in. He takes a long drink of coffee and sighs.

“Yes, mum.”

“Good boy. Now,” she pats his knee and gets to her feet, “have a shower and a nap, I’ll get lunch ready.”

 

*

 

_“What?!”_

It’s Tuesday. Three days out from the Dinner from Hell. Michael curls himself further under his blanket, sinking into his bed as Jace gapes at him through the small screen of his phone.

“He _kissed_ you?” Jace demands, expression tightening. “And then _ran away?!_ And you’re telling me _now?!”_

“Yeah, but—”

“No! No _buts!”_ Jace throws his hands up, falling back against his own pillows and shakes his head with a disbelieving sound. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“It was just the adrenalin!” Michael screeches, exasperated. He cringes when Jace just stares at him in silence. “It was just…Look, he was with her the next day and clearly regrets it, so just leave it, okay?”

There’s an indignant scoff. “Michael Clifford, mates don’t kiss other mates just because of the adrenalin. Imagine if Chris Evans filmed one of his ridiculous stunts and then turned right back around to kiss RDJ. If Luke kissed you, it’s because he wanted to. If he kissed you, it’s because he thought _I just got beat up and Michael’s here taking care of me and I really fucking want to kiss him!”_

Michael groans and buries his face into a pillow. A scream is muffled into the cotton.

“Mum said the same thing,” he admits mulishly.

Jace chuckles. “Your mother is smart woman and you should at least listen to her, if not me. She’s known Luke longer than me, she _would_ know better. She says Luke likes you, you believe her.”

“But he _ran away.”_

“Mike,” Jace says, clearly exasperated but not unkindly so. “He probably realised that both of you were cheating. Him, literally and you, well, not literally but he doesn’t know that, does he? He thinks you’re in a very committed relationship with yours truly.”  

Oh.

Of course.

He peeks out from beneath the pillow, cheeks flaming. “I didn’t think about that.”

Jace looks at him fondly. “Yeah, I thought as much, which is why you have me around to think for you. Now, will you please go to his house, break down his door and tell him, in no uncertain terms, that you are not dating anyone and he should break up with bridezilla and go out with you instead?”

“I can’t do that.”

 _“Michael Gordon Clifford,_ I swear to fucking God—”

Michael bites down on a laugh. “Hey, hey, get off my back, dude!” He interrupts. “He’s off camping with his brothers in the middle of no-fucking-where.”

Jace pauses. “Oh. Alright. But when he gets back, you have to talk to him.”

“I’m going to dinner at his on Friday, Liz invited us,” Michael mumbles, pushing a hand through his hair. He groans again, squeezing his eyes shut for a seconf. “Fine, alright? Fucking _fine,_ I’ll talk to him.”

Jace grins. “I’ll await the wedding invite.”

Michael hangs up on him.

 

*

 

Walking into the Hemmings house again is like stepping back into his fifteen-year-old-self’s shoes, stomach in tangles, heart somewhere in his ears, and a sheepish smile at Liz like that first time.

Except this time, Liz drags him into a big bear-hug. “You’re so grown up,” she says fondly, ruffling his hair.

Over her shoulder, Michael catches Luke’s eyes. He is watching with a small smile on his face, leaning against the lower banister of the staircase, arms crossed over his chest and hair falling in waves over his forehead into light blue eyes.

When Liz lets go, Andy pulls him in with a hearty clap to his back. “Welcome home, Mike.”

“It’s good to be back,” he says, grinning.

As the three of them are ushered into the living room, Michael spares a glance at Luke.

“I’ll go check on the roast,” Luke murmurs and escapes into the kitchen.

Michael sighs and lets himself be drawn into the adult’s conversation, recounting a few funny tour stories and turning down a glass of wine. He half hopes that Luke burns the roast and then feels guilty for it. Liz had done nothing to him and her roast dinners were legendary.

Dinner goes by smoothly, because the unspoken agreement between him and Luke seems to still stand. Trading teasing jabs and bouncing off each other as they entertain their parents with band shenanigans and update upcoming plans, it’s almost easy for Michael to forget that they aren’t talking.

Luke’s eyes gleam blue as he throws his head back and cackles at a spectacular dad joke from Daryl and suddenly, his mum’s words come rushing back to him.

_There’s always been something there._

It ruins his appetite and he pushes the leftover food around his plate until everyone else finishes eating.

“We’ll clean up,” Luke announces and that earns Michael a smug look from his mum which he proceeds to ignore.

The adults head back into the lounge room to chat, wine glasses in hand and the latest Australian political upheaval on their minds, trust that the Prime Minister had changed overnight yet _again_. The moment they are alone in the kitchen with dishes piled up beside the sink, Michael gathers every shred of courage he can find and opens his mouth.

“Why did you ki—”

“Lea’s coming to Japan,” Luke blurts out before he can go further, looking panicked. His hands sink into soapy water. “She’s…she wanted to come…to Japan.”

An empty water glass slips out of Michael’s hands.

He doesn’t even cringe as the glass shatters by his feet, sending shards shooting across the kitchen tiles, and as Luke swears loudly, jumping backward, Michael can only hear the humming in his ears, the high-pitched ring of broken glass.

“Oh,” he says blankly.

As the adults rush into the room at the sudden commotion, Luke grabs Michael with soapy hands and drags him away, and Michael goes, letting himself be led out of the kitchen, down the hall and up the stairs.

“Mikey,” Luke says.

Ears still ringing, Michael stares around dazed and unseeing. He’s shaken out of it when fingers snap in front of his face. Eyes focusing on concerned blue ones, Michael slowly remembers how to breathe.

“Hey,” Luke murmurs, hands gentle as he tugs Michael into the bathroom, “You’re alright.” He ushers him towards the tub. “But we need to clean that up.”

Confused, Michael follows the vague gesture downwards.

There’s a sliver of glass embedded in his big toe, blood seeping out around it.

“Oh,” he says again. He swallows. “Right, yeah.”

As Luke turns away to the cabinet above sink, Michael registers the soap bubbles on his own forearms. “Wash your hands,” he says, not looking up. “They’re still soapy.”

 _She wanted to come to Japan._ Because of course she did.

He wonders if Luke told her about the kiss, about how _Luke_ had been the one to move first, how he had been the one who shoved his hands into Michael’s hair, how he had been the one to pull away and push Michael against the wall to kiss him _again,_ how—

“Hold tight, I need to pull the glass out.”

Michael sucks in a sharp breath, relieved that he’d been pulled out of his head before he had gone tumbling back into the fever-hot memory of that kiss, and grips the edge of the tub.

 _Obviously,_ Luke hadn’t told her any damn thing. But she clearly didn’t like the way he was acting, otherwise she wouldn’t have booked herself a flight across the fucking Pacific—

A hissed curse rips out of his mouth and Luke leans back triumphantly with the piece of glass held between the bloody ends of pair of tweezers.  

“Jesus fucking _Christ,_ you asshole,” Michael groans, rubbing his palms down his face. He looks down at the blood congealing around the wound. “Stop looking so fucking smug and fix this.”

Luke chuckles and gets to work, wiping the blood away, cleaning the area with alcohol wipes and bandaging the toe after applying antiseptic.

“Ow,” Michael grumbles and moves his foot to settle it gingerly on the floor.

“Want me to kiss it better?” Luke asks teasingly before seeming to realise what he’s said, expression shuttering as he looks up.

The sudden silence is deafening.

Michael forces himself to breathe normally, in and out, and despite the echo of Luke’s words in his head, makes himself start talking. Who knows if he’d get another chance.

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?” Luke asks, pushing to his feet and turning away. His voice is strained, quiet as he cleans up the bathroom and puts the first aid kit back in the cabinet.

“Luke,” he says, chest tight. “You kissed me.”

Luke’s shoulders are a long line of tension, hands white-knuckled as they curl around the edge of the sink. “It was an accident,” he murmurs, not turning around. “Just forget it happened.”

An ugly laugh rears its head in Michael’s throat and he swallows it down. His stomach turns. “I knew she had you by the balls,” he lets his voice go blank as he gets to his feet, “but I didn’t realise you were a coward.”

Luke says nothing. But somehow the stilted ring of silence off the bathroom tiles says enough.

Michael huffs a weak laugh as he shuffles to the door. He turns around to face Luke before he walks out. “She’s not your keeper, Luke. You can do whatever the fuck you want to do with your life. Don’t let someone else call the shots for you.”

As he leaves, treading across the familiar floorboards, something hits a wall behind him and Michael flinches, hoping that it isn’t valuable.

“Everything is fine, alright?” Luke calls after him, voice choked. “It’s fine, I’m fine, we’re fine, everything is _fine,_ Mikey. _Okay?”_

Michael stops in his tracks, two steps down the staircase. _Mikey._ He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “Repeat a word too many times and it starts to lose meaning,” he throws back. He relents after a moment. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it. _Fine._ I’ll let it go. But don’t pull away when shit goes down, alright? You know you can talk to me.”

Luke is silent for a beat too long and Michael leans his temple against the wall to gather the strength to breathe and keep walking down.

“I know. You’ll always be my best friend,” comes drifting out of the bathroom door just as Michael lowers his foot to the next stair.  

He rolls his shoulders back, lips quirking up helplessly. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _I know._ They would be best friends for—forever, really. That would never change. Michael just needs to stop wishing it would turn into _more_ , even though Luke possibly could have feelings for him.

He doesn’t think that’s going to stop being a punch to the lungs any time soon.

“’Night, Luke,” he calls softly over his shoulder. It feels too much like something is ending long before it had time to begin and his throat aches. “I’ll see you in LA.”

Liz crushes him into a hug when he gets downstairs and Michael squeezes right back with a chuckle. Andy claps him on the shoulder and makes him promise to keep in touch. He promises. He misses them too.

He throws one last glance up the stairs, pausing in the entry way, before taking a deep breath and walking out of the house.

His mum raises a questioning eyebrow as they walk to the car and Michael shrugs in response, giving her a small smile. He doesn’t say anything and by the perplexed look she throws back at the Hemmings house, he doesn’t need to.

“It’ll work itself out,” his dad says, catching his eyes in the rear-view mirror.

Michael nods, exhausted now, and leans his head against the window to stare up at the muffled stars as the car pulls away from the curb.

 

*

 

He sends a cursory text to Calum to show that he’s alive but stays holed up inside his house otherwise, glued to his Xbox and Netflix in turn.

Harry texts him on Saturday night, two days before he flies back to LA for tour rehearsals, and Michael pauses Breaking Bad with a smile. Until he sees the message.

 

_From: Hairy Styles_

_Lou called Jace._

_You alright?_

 

Stomach sinking, Michael rubs his temples.

 

_To: Hairy Styles_

_Everything’s fine_

 

_From: Hairy Styles_

_That’s an old song and dance, Michael._

_I know how it goes._

_How are you really?_

 

_To: Hairy Styles_

_Coping_

_I’ll be fine_

 

_From: Hairy Styles_

_Luke will come around._

_Jace is convinced._

 

Michael huffs lightly

 

_To: Hairy Styles_

_You have an irritating and misplaced faith in people_

_Idk Harry_

 

_From: Hairy Styles_

_Lou says, “shut the fuck up Clifford and listen”_

_I’m sorry though. If there’s anything Lou and I can do, let us know._

 

His chest aches. Harry and Louis have the biggest hearts in the world, and Michael knows, without a doubt, that their fans know it too. He just wishes the rest of the world would realise it too.

 

_To: Hairy Styles_

_Louis, I’m fucking listening_

_It’s fine, it’s okay, I SWEAR_

_Don’t worry about me :)_

_How are you guys?_

 

_From: Hairy Styles_

_Have faith._

_I think Luke will come around._

_We’re alright. Just about to sleep._

_Good night, Mike  :-)_

 

There’s a ridiculous hitch in his throat that sounds like a dry sob and he laughs at himself for getting so affected by a smiley face, just because it reminded him of Luke.

 

_To: Hairy Styles_

_Maybe…_

_G’night, guys_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. Hairy Styles with words of comfort and wisdom. I swear I didn't forget about the Dream Team, they were always going to slip back in after Bali. 
> 
> Anywaysss...please comment and yell at me about what you thought of the chapter! It really keeps me motivated and inspired <3 
> 
> THANKS FOR READING!!


	17. Taking the backstreets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's only been two-ish weeks, who's proud of me?! No one is more surprised than I am, I assure you. This fic is almost 200 pages on word, by the way, and I'm not sure how it got to this point. 
> 
> Nonetheless, I am back with another chapter of 5.5k and well, shit happens but this is a fun chapter (mostly) to get a break from all the angst. I mean, there are a couple serious conversations but it's mostly fun! I tried to make it funny so I really hope that it IS funny hahahaha 
> 
> ANYWAYS, enjoy!! 
> 
> P.S. Sorry for any spelling/grammar errors, I just really wanted to get this up. I'll edit soon! xx

Michael chokes. Coughs. Chokes again.

“What the _fuck?”_ He croaks, sitting down hard on his bed. It’s Sunday _morning,_ it’s too early to die, he thinks hysterically.

On his phone is a picture of Luke. Luke in LA today, out buying…was that _juice?_

Dressed head to toe in black, a Bintang cap on his head, leather boots on his feet, Luke is staring directly into the camera with a slightly puzzled look in shadowed blue-grey eyes. Rosy pink lips curl upwards and the whole look is simultaneously confused and knowing, like he’s unsure why paps are following him but smug because he knows he looks like a walking wet dream.

Michael’s head spins, mouth dry. This is why he tries to avoid Twitter when he’s on holiday.

With the collar of his jacket upturned, remnants of black nail polish on his nails, and legs stretching for miles, Luke looks like he’s literally waltzed out of Michael’s dreams. The little curls of hair framing his eyes under the cap are _taunting_ him.

This is just…this is fucking ridiculous! Who the fuck gave him the right to look like _that?_ Especially after packing up and running all the way back to LA, right into _her_ fucking arms, because he didn’t want to face reality.

Michael swipes away the picture, hands shaking with barely concealed frustration as he pulls up his contacts.

“Did you see him?” He demands as soon as the line clicks. “Did you fucking see him?”

There’s a startled pause before Jace bursts into laughter.

Michael scowls at the wall opposite the bed. “Shut up, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, on the contrary,” Jace gasps down the line, “this is fucking hilarious. But.” He takes a moment to calm down, chuckling under his breath. “No, I have no clue what dearest Luke did this time to affect your delicate sensibilities, but whatever it is, I can’t believe you’re making an international call to cry about it. You sound so Aussie when you’re pissed off, you know?”

Michael hisses through his teeth _._

“I texted you the link. Does he think this shit is _funny?_ He has the nerve to kiss me and then act like nothing happened, oh no, everything is fine and fucking _dandy,_ and there’s no need to talk at all because _she’s_ coming to fucking Japan to keep a fucking eye on him so any feelings he may apparently have for me are null and fucking void, and then, and _then_ the fucker goes out to buy juice, _juice,_ looking like—like that!”

There’s a small silence as Jace pulls up the link. “He’s just out buying juice, man. What’s got you so riled up?”

“I know where you live, Jace, stop trying to psychoanalyse me. Your therapist voice isn’t going to work,” Michael says, jaw clenched. He ignores the snort that comes at that. “How could Zoe be part of this?! _Doesn’t she know that I could die?_ Luke Hemmings is trying to send me to an early grave. And let me fucking tell you something. It’s _working._ I should be diagnosed with heart problems. I think I’m _dying_. I’m actually gonna kill him. _”_

“I think that’s called _murder.”_

“Fuck him,” Michael grits out, tearing a hand through his hair. He groans. His chest aches with the heavy weight sitting on top of it but he swallows down the tangled knot of emotions in his throat. “Fuck him and his stupid blue eyes.”

“Is it the sparkle in his sky-blue eyes?” Jace swoons to the tune of _Marry You_ by Bruno Mars. “Or the smug curl to his rosy lips?”

Michael drops backwards on to the bed and groans again, loudly, at the ceiling of his bedroom. That prompts Jace to break out into song at the top of his lungs. Somewhere in the middle, a guitar starts up and Michael rolls his eyes.

“ _It’s a beautiful night, you’re looking for something dumb to do,”_ Jace croons. _“Hey Lukey, Mikey wants to marry you.”_

“I really hate you,” Michael sighs, despite the reluctant smile that’s working its way across his face.

_“Is it the fire in his eyes—no you’ve definitely lost your mind…who cares, Lukey, Mikey wants to marry you.”_

“You’re so annoying.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

Michael just groans again. He doesn’t need to think about that now.

Jace laughs and the sound of the guitar comes down the line softly as he strums once, twice. “Admit it, that was genius. I should record this, have it released as a single. I’ll even dedicate it to you. Your fans would eat it up and maybe, _just maybe,_ Luke will pull his head out from where it’s lodged so far up his asshole.”

“Please don’t.” Michael picks at the hem of his shirt absently, thinking about the last song that was indirectly – but very obviously – dedicated to him. “How long have you been playing anyway?”

“Nine years. I mean, nothing major like you but, yeah, a while.” The guitar sings in Jace’s hands. “It’s just a hobby.”

Michael huffs a quiet exclamation. “Nine _years?_ Man. No wonder you play like a natural.”

“Thanks, rockstar, but I’ve been practicing every day for those nine years. I’m no natural, not like you.”

“Please, I play every day too. It’s not all natural talent. I’ll come over one day and we can jam together,” Michael says, excited. “It’ll be fun!”

Jace chuckles. “It would be fun. Alright, Clifford, I’ll hold you to that. I’ll show you just how good I am with my hands.”

“Speaking of, you’ve called Peyton, right?” Michael changes the subject, grinning at the exasperated whine that tumbles down the line. “How’s he doing?”

“I’ll have you know that he’s doing none of your damn business.”

“Oh, come _on,_ you shit!” Michael exclaims. “I’m your fake boyfriend. It’s so my business!”

Jace mutters something unsavoury under his breath before he speaks up again. “I haven’t. There’s a three-hour time difference between here and Boston.”

“Yeah and there’s a _seventeen-hour_ time difference between LA and Sydney, and yet…” Michael scoffs. “Don’t pull that shit with me, bro, I work across every fucking time zone. Call. Him.”

“It’s been a week,” his friend sighs, sounding resigned. “He hasn’t texted me so he probably doesn’t even—”

“I’m gonna stop you there. Jay, that guy was so fucking into you, _he’s_ the one who gave you his number first. You told me he actually _laughed_ at that stupid bee telephone joke of yours, like _what do you get when you call a bee_ is not _funny._ He’s probably scared too, I mean, it’s not like you texted him either, you idiot! Just trust your good old fake boyfriend and _call_ him, for fuck’s sake. There’s only room for one angst-ridden guy in this relationship,” Michael jokes. “I can’t have you messing up my vibe.”

Jace laughs softly. “Guess so…Mike, I’m sorry about the whole _liking you_ thing—”

Heart leaping into his throat, Michael interrupts hastily. “Hey, stop apologising for something you’ve already apologised enough for. You’re braver than me for talking about it. Whatever happened isn’t your fault, okay? Now call Peyton. Anyone who laughs at _buzzy signal_ deserves it.”

“You’re an easy person to love. Luke’s an idiot if he doesn’t get shit together and come after you,” Jace murmurs with a smile in his voice and Michael feels the words pierce through him like a warm knife through butter. Jace clears his throat, raising his voice to normal volume. “Well, he’ll still be an idiot, but you know what I mean. But uh…I’ll call Peyton.”

His mum yells up the stairs that dinner is ready and Michael heaves a sigh, pulling himself up into a seated position. “You better. But, uh, I gotta go. Last family dinner before I disappear for five months so…I’ll text you when I get to LA?”

“Yeah,” Jace says with a gentle sound after the word. “And Michael?”

“Yeah, Jay?”

“Thank you.”

Michael smiles, a tiny thing that unfurls a bright spot in his chest. “Anytime.”

 

*

 

_“Mikey!”_

Michael stops short in the entryway of Calum and Ashton’s apartment, eyes going wide as Luke barrels out of the kitchen like the spirit of Usain Bolt had possessed him and knocks into him with the force of a category five tornado, squeezing hard before he pulls back with a bright, dimply smile and eyes endlessly blue enough to give colour every ocean on earth. Michael feels winded just looking at him and wishes his brain would give it a rest.

He blinks at Luke for a moment, dazed. “Hi?”

“Ash and Cal made cookies,” Luke says, gesturing to the kitchen with a grin. He walks in front of Michael with a spring in his step.

Okay…now Michael is confused. _Very_ confused.

Luke had kissed him just over a week ago—and it hadn’t just been any kiss, Jesus, Michael still has nightmares about it, all teeth and heat and blood and confusion—and they hadn’t had a real conversation about it because _it was an accident, just forget it happened_ and he regrets saying that he would let it go because has he slept at _all_ since Friday?

Michael had thought the camaraderie in Sydney was just for the sake of their parents but apparently not. He wonders if he should be relieved.

He isn’t. It’s odd and unsettling.

But he drops his suitcase and duffel bag near the door, rolls his shoulders back and follows Luke. “Are we sure they’re safe to eat? I don’t want to get explosive diarrhoea a week out from tour.”

Something comes flying at him as he steps out into the open-plan kitchen and he ducks at the last moment, watching the projectile crumble on impact with the wall. It’s a cookie.

“No cookies for you,” Ashton says through a mouthful. “None, you shit. You don’t deserve my hard work.”

Calum rolls his eyes at the eldest as he swings around the counter and drags Michael in for a tight hug. “Missed you,” he says quietly into Michael’s ear. “Luke hasn’t said a word to us.”

Michael tames the tense coil in his stomach. “He’s…” he whispers, “he’s said a few things to me.”

“Oh?”

“Later.” Michael pulls back to see Calum’s sceptical look. “Later, I swear.”

“Wow, you literally saw each other a week ago,” Luke says from his seat at the counter.

Calum lets Michael go, turning around with a scoff to grab two cookies from the baking tray beside Ashton. “I’m allowed to miss my best friend, and besides, jealousy isn’t a good colour on you.”

Michael bites his lip and disagrees silently. He’s having a hard time looking at Luke, their last conversation sitting like an iron curtain in front of his eyes, but he studies the pale pink pout and tries to quell the flutter of his stomach.

“I’m also your best friend,” Luke states, taking both biscuits from Calum’s hand.

“Not when you steal my cookies. You, Hemmings, are a _thief_.”

Ashton is silent amid all this, just watching Michael with a muted look in his hazel eyes that hints at _conversations to be had._ Michael sighs inwardly but pastes a bright grin on his face and moves towards him with his arms outstretched.

“Bring it in, Irwin, I missed you too.”

Ashton scoffs. “Uh huh. Not a _single_ text from you, Michael Clifford. Not one in the past eight days.”

Michael drops his arms and sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “That wasn’t intentional. I let Calum know I was alive.”

Ashton sighs. “I suppose that’s the main thing.” He looks up with a grin curling his lips up. “Come here, oh my god, stop _pouting_ at me.”

Michael snickers and all but dives at Ashton, pulling him into a big bear hug. He knows he’s irresistible when he pouts. “Aw, _Ashy!”_

There’s a sharp pinch to his hip. “Call me Ashy again and I’ll reconsider this.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Ashton pulls away from him, rolling his eyes. “You stink like a trans-pacific flight. Go shower, have a nap and then we’ll go for dinner.”

“One last Chipotle before we hit the gym again?” Calum suggests with an eager grin. “I’ve been craving Mexican for _days.”_

“Ash, why didn’t you tell me that Calum’s pregnant?

Luke bursts into laughter.

Michael screeches when a spoon flies at his head, laughing as he sprints for the door leading to the bedrooms as a barrage of cutlery come flying at him and clang onto the tiles in his wake.

“You can suck my dick, Michael!” Calum yells.

Michael cackles from halfway down the hallway, leaving his bags where they are by the front door. “I can but I won’t,” he calls back. “Ashton would choke me in my sleep and I’m just not into that!”

The sound of incoherent screaming comes from the kitchen as Michael escapes into the safety of Calum’s bedroom, cheeks aching from laughter.

It’s good to be back.

 

*

 

When _later_ eventually comes along, Michael finds himself on the couch, wrapped up in three blankets like a burrito and scowling as Calum stands between him and the TV, arms crossed.

It’s barely past eleven at night, the apartment silent around them save for the re-run of Suits that Michael _was_ watching before Calum came along. Ashton had apparently gone out on for some fancy-ass dinner with Hailey Baldwin and Co.—and Michael is half-sure he was hallucinating when he’d find out—and Calum had apparently declined a chance to be a fly-on-the-wall for _that_ in favour of standing here now and just staring at Michael. Those unwavering, insightful brown eyes seem to know all too much.

“You’re not invisible,” he says wearily, curling himself tighter into his blanket burrito. “Please move. Louis is being a sarcastic little bitch and I want to know if Harvey will finally kick his ass.”

Calum sets his hands on his hips and his mouth becomes a thin line. “It’s later, Michael. You gonna tell me what the fuck happened back home? Because Luke is acting like he’s been injected with fucking happy gas and you can barely look him in the eye.”

He closes his eyes, pulling a blanket up and over his head, and presses his face into the soft, woollen material. “He said that it was an accident and that I should forget it happened,” he murmurs, rubbing his temples slowly. “This is me trying to forget it happened.”

“By camping out in my living room and mentally exhausting yourself until you pass out so you don’t think about it while staring at a blank ceiling alone in a hotel room?”

Michael flinches as the words lance through his chest and digs his hands into his eyes until multi-coloured fractals cascade across the darkness.

There’s a soft sigh and the couch dips next to him in the next moment as Calum sits down, drawing the bundle that Michael makes into a cuddle. Michael lets the miserable expression slip on to his face, still hidden beneath the blankets, and tucks himself into Calum’s side with a low whine.

Calum’s soft puff of laughter is fond as he settles his chin on Michael’s head. “Eleven years and I’ve never seen you make anything easy for yourself.”

Michael’s throat aches shockingly like he’s going to cry and he’s very glad, despite all the horrendous situations that Calum has seen him in over the years, that he can’t see Michael’s face. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“I know Jace has probably talked your ear off about this already, but…talking to Luke is the only thing that’s going to put both of you out of your misery. And it is misery,” Calum says, snorting. His hand rubs up and down Michael’s back and Michael finds himself melting, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “You’ve been idiots since the day you met and even though you don’t hate each other anymore, you’re still idiots.”

“I don’t want to ruin the band,” Michael says after exhaling heavily. He pulls the blankets down and takes another breath, letting the cool air clear his head. “We leave in a week, Cal, and I can’t fuck up the only time we have to put a show together. I’ll…I’ll be fine, okay? Luke and I will be fine. Nothing really sticks when we fight, anyway.”

“You won’t ruin the fucking band.” Calum lets him go when he pulls away, shifting to the other side of the couch and digging his fingers into the grooves in the cushions. “I know you’ll be fine, Mike, but I just want the fine-ness to come sooner rather than later. Besides,” he says, looking up and catching his eyes, “this isn’t a fight.”

“What happened to the irresponsible Calum who tried to climb the fence behind my house and broke his arm falling off it?” Michael grumbles. “You’re so… _reasonable.”_

A bright, surprised bark comes from Calum. “Fuck off! I was literally twelve! We can’t act like fucking twelvies forever.”  

Michael throws his head back and laughs. “I remember you screaming from the other side of the fence and I couldn’t fucking see you but all you said was, _I’m fucking covered in horse shit!”_

He gets a pillow to the face as he chokes on a breath, tears springing into his eyes. But the laughter doesn’t stop and eventually Calum launches himself across the couch and wrestles Michael, and his cocoon of blankets, onto the floor with a wild yell.

 

*

 

Is any of this worth it?

Maybe that’s just the bitterness talking but as he watches Luke sneak out of the studios at eight a.m. with a cursory glance over his shoulder, Michael thinks that he deserves a fucking break. But he sinks back into the couch and swings the guitar into his lap, playing around with chords.

He and Luke had gotten to the rehearsal studios just after half past seven, and now, half an hour before they were supposed to start rehearsing for the tour starting in less than a bloody _week,_ Luke is gone, vanishing like smoke out of the door.

There’s no guess as to where he’s gone.

Michael tries to ignore the tight flare of jealousy that burns low in his stomach, but it’s too hot, too alive, eating away at him.

With a sigh, he drops his head back and stares at the ceiling.

He’s shaken awake twenty minutes later, Ashton’s hazel eyes swimming in front of his sleep-blurry eyes.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Ashton teases, helping Michael sit up. He looks around at the otherwise empty room. “Where’s Luke? Didn’t you two come here together?”

Michael rubs the sleep out of his eyes and avoids Ashton’s shrewd gaze. “Dunno.”

_“Michael.”_

“He snuck off!” Michael exclaims. “Alright? I have no fucking clue where he is, Ashton, okay, maybe you should call his keeper and find out!”

Calum walks through the door, frowning at his phone. “Luke says he’ll be late.” He looks up. “But I thought—”

“Apparently, he didn’t want to hang around,” Michael mutters. He picks up his guitar. “Can we get started, please?”

As the room starts to buzz with activity with the arrival of their techs and stage manager, Michael heaves a sigh and gets himself into work mode, throwing all thoughts of Luke out of his head.

When Luke finally does show up two hours later, it’s with a guilty expression and a box of doughnuts for everyone. Michael doesn’t eat one on principle, citing lack of appetite as irritation simmers in his stomach when praise is showered over Luke for his thoughtfulness.

 _Thoughtful, my ass,_ Michael snorts silently and thumbs out a bitter text to Jace, Harry and Louis.

 

*

 

After that, the rehearsals run drama-free and the excitement starts to build as songs fall into line, a set list takes shape and staging blocks out.

They bicker about the set list, between themselves and with the fans, and he high-key wishes that they weren’t obligated to play Don’t Stop because Airplanes would such a good addition to the list. Michael loses it on the third day as Luke, clearly offended, sasses the person who called him out for saying that Beside You was dead. He laughs until he ends up hiccupping his way through She’s Kinda Hot and then finds it impossible to stop laughing after that.

It’s almost a relief when that turns the tension to smoke, the banter and teasing jabs and improvised pranks coming tumbling back as they drive everyone working with them up the wall.

Their rehearsals ignite, a fire burning under them now as studio songs turn into roof-raising, coherent live renditions and Michael throws a breathless grin at Luke as the final notes of an epic guitar battle echo off the walls in the middle of Castaway. They had lost track of the song as Michael had attempted a slight change and Luke had followed the cue with a sparkle in his blue eyes and an excited flush to his cheeks.

“We have to fucking do that for every fucking show!” Luke spills towards Michael, eyes shining, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “A live guitar battle! The fans will fucking eat it up!”

And Michael nods, laughing as Luke spins around and around, guitar flying from side to side, and _whoops_ at the soaring ceiling.

It’s only when he’s back in his hotel room that he sees the video that Ashton had sent him.

Michael’s chest aches, a smile spreading helplessly across his face as he watches him and Luke bounce off each other, bright eyes and ecstatic grins, their fingers flying across their guitars. He swallows thickly as he watches Luke run at him at the end, sees his heart in his own eyes as he listens to Luke rant at him.

 

_From: Ash US work_

_You make a great team_

 

*

 

Amidst the live show taking a tangible shape, Ashton finally corners Michael in the evening of the second last day before they are due to fly out to Japan. He tosses his bag in the trunk of Michael’s rental car, plonks himself into the passenger seat and clicks the seatbelt just as Michael starts the car.

“So,” he says, making himself comfortable, “What the fuck happened in Sydney?”

And everything had been going _so_ well the last couple of days.

“Why yes, Ashton, I would love to give you a lift home, thank you for asking.” Michael rolls his eyes and pulls the car out of the parking space. “Nothing happened.”

“Then why is Luke suddenly the world expert on avoiding questions and running away?”

A snort tumbles out of Michael. “Why are you hiding shit from us? What happened in Bali?” He asks in return, throwing Ashton a triumphant look when his eyes widen, like _yeah, I need answers too_. “You already know what happened with me, and you said you’d tell me! I want to hear your half of the story.”

“And people in hell want a nice, cold beer,” Ashton bites out, crossing his arms and sliding down in the seat until his knees rest against the dashboard. He keeps his gaze on the headlights of the oncoming cars, the light watching over him in waves. It throws his petulant look into a sharp spotlight. “I’ll have you know that I asked first.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “For the oldest, you’re so immature,” he mutters under his breath. “ _No,_ ‘cos you’ve obviously been gossiping with Calum and Jace, so you don’t need to hear it from me,” he says at normal volume.

“You caught me,” Ashton says, not an ounce of shame in sight. He cocks his head expectantly. “But…I want to hear it from you.”

“And people in hell want a nice, cold beer,” Michael shoots back.

Ashton’s scathing look could shrivel up the Amazon, it’s that dry.

“Did you know that she’s is coming to Japan?” Michael says cheerfully. At Ashton’s unreadable look, he deflates. “Right. Jace would’ve told you. Or Luke…Well, long story short, she’s coming on tour, Luke’s a fucking coward and I don’t think telling him that I’m in love with him is gonna do shit to change that.”

Silence stretches on the heels of the last word until Ashton exhales quietly.

“Do you have any idea if he has feelings for you?”

Michael shrugs as he changes lanes, turning his head to check his blind spot. “He might. I…actually think he might,” he whispers. “But he’s not gonna do anything about them.”

“He does,” Ashton corrects softly. There’s a tiny curve to his mouth that Michael can see out of the corner of his eyes. “He _does,_ Mike. I swear to you. I’ve seen his face when he looks at you, and I think he started to lose control of it in Bali—”

“Ash,” he says, sighing, “Even if it was true, he’s not gonna do anything about it.”

“Right.” Ashton’s face is screwed up into a tightly focused expression when Michael glances at him. “Why would he do anything if you didn’t tell him that you’re single and have been for the past five fucking years?”

Michael sucks in a whistling breath. “Ashton…”

“Mike,” Ashton says, turning to him, “He’s just scared.”

“This isn’t my fault!” He exclaims, hands tight around the steering wheel.

“I didn’t say it was.” Ashton reaches out to squeeze his arm. His voice is placating, like he’s trying to quieten a frightened animal. Michael buzzes with irritation. “He’s scared, okay, and so are you. You’ve been running away from your feelings for years, Michael, and _trust me,_ I know how you feel.”

Michael throws him a sharp glance at that but Ashton isn’t looking at him, eyes faraway as he stares through the windscreen.

“Promise me you’ll talk to him when you’re ready,” the eldest says after a moment, turning dark hazel eyes back on him.

He swallows and keeps his gaze on the broken white line between lanes. “We’ll see.”

The cadence of orange streetlights and fluorescent flare of headlights roll over their faces as silence falls, filled only with the rush of tires on the road. The roiling waves of emotion in his stomach threaten to overwhelm him, a dull ache starting in his temples as his brain spins.

Talk to Luke? _Again?_

Not after last time.

He can still feel the itching under his skin as he had walked out of the bathroom leaving Luke behind, the ache between his lungs as he had slowly climbed down the stairs, the tight hollow in his stomach as he had walked out of Luke’s house.

_It was an accident. Just forget it happened._

_I didn’t realise you were a coward._

_You’ll always be my best friend._

 “Oh uh, by the way,” Michael says, suddenly remembering. “I asked Jace to come to Japan for the weekend.”

Ashton lets out a surprised laugh, sounding pleased. “Oh, did you? Funny, I asked him earlier today.”

“Seriously? You’ve been talking to him?” Michael gasps dramatically. “ _No. Way.”_ He gets shoved in the arm and it almost sends them careening into an oncoming SUV just as he turns off into Ashton’s street. Michael yelps, correcting the steering wheel with a look at Ashton. “Oi, stop trying to get us killed before the biggest tour of our lives!”

A grumble comes from the supposed adult next to him. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, I swear I _will_ tell you guys soon, and third of all, don’t be a dick, I did it for you. _”_

Michael smiles. He reaches out to pat Ashton’s thigh when they stop at a red light. “Thanks, Ash.” When Ashton scowls at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “No, seriously! I mean it.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As Michael pulls into the carpark under the apartment building, Ashton pokes him hard. “Think about what I said, alright, bud?”

“Yes, father.”

Michael manages half a mocking bow and Ashton snorts.

“’Least it wasn’t _daddy_ this time.”

With a roll of his eyes, Michael throws the car haphazardly across two parking slots and unlocks the doors. “Get out of my car, asshole.”

Ashton hops out and before closing the door, he leans down to eyelevel. “This isn’t your car, _asshole.”_

Michael grins as he waits for Ashton to grab his bag from the trunk. He really enjoys the relationship he and Ashton have. “Good talk, Papa Irwin.”

“ _Goodbye,_ Michael,” Ashton calls pointedly over his shoulder as he turns away and immediately trips over a raised concrete divider.  

Michael is still laughing as he pulls onto the main road.

It’s only when he pulls into the hotel car park that he realises that Ashton had once again weaselled his way out of explaining what the fuck was going on with him, Jace and Bali, and his smile drops right off his face.

_Bastard._

 

*

 

“I’ve come up with a new name for You-Know-Who,” is the first thing Jace says to him when they meet outside the business class lounge. “Not Voldemort but like, Luke Hemmings, but I suppose that’s the same thing…Anyways! Lucifer. He’s the first prince of hell and has a royal stick up his ass. Guess what his fatal flaw is? Just _guess.”_

Michael arches an eyebrow, grinning. “I don’t know, Jay, why don’t you tell me.”

“Pride!” Jace declares with a triumphant smile, raising a fist. “All hail Lucifer! I’m a genius, right? Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here _all_ weekend!” The exaggerated cheer dims after a sweeping bow and Jace gives him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How’re you holding up, rockstar?”

“I’m fine,” Michael murmurs, glancing through the windows over to where the rest of the band and their team are sitting inside the lounge. Luke is watching them. “I’m okay.”

Jace snorts, following his gaze before turning back to him. He slips his fingers in between Michael’s and squeezes. “So, in translation, you’re not fine nor are you okay, but you’re coping. Alright, that’s cool. I’m here as a buffer.”

 _“No,”_ Michael says, shaking his head fondly as they drop their hands before walking into the lounge. “You’re here because you and Ashton have some insane plan that I accidentally helped along.”  

Jace gasps, pressing a hand over his heart. “Michael Clifford _,”_ he says, faux-shocked as they reach the others, “how _dare_ you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Did you mention, even _once,_ that he invited you before I did?” Michael challenges, crossing his arms as he flops into an armchair.

Ashton flashes them a wicked grin. “Feeling betrayed, Mike?”

Michael huffs. “Completely.”

Jace pats his knee and reaches forward to bump fists with Ashton. “I’m not even sorry, babe. His Royal Highness is driving everyone crazy with the gigantic pole he has up his ass.”

Michael’s insides freeze at the blatant statement but Luke doesn’t seem to have realised that it was about him, absorbed in his phone but clearly listening to the conversation because he says, “Who has a pole up their ass?”

Jace seems to choke. Calum presses his lips together and holds his breath. Michael locks eyes with Ashton, unable to breathe for the irony.

“This guy I know,” Jace says after a moment and his voice is tight with repressed amusement, a hint of anger underneath. “He’s being the biggest dick to his best friend because he can’t cope with the fact that he has feelings for him. Doesn’t seem to realise that it’s fucking _mutual_ and his best friend is struggling to hold himself together.”

Michael isn’t breathing. His whole body is vibrating as he turns to stare at Luke. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Calum with his face pressed into a silently dying Ashton’s shoulder.

If that didn’t make it obvious to Luke that it was about him, Michael doesn’t think anything else _could._

Luke doesn’t move. His hands are white-knuckled. His thumb keeps scrolling on his phone, eyes glued to the screen. “Well, he’s an idiot then, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, Luke,” Jace says and Michael turns his head to look at him. His eyes are blazing as he drills a hole right through Luke’s forehead. “He’s definitely an idiot.”

Ashton lets out a high-pitched sound before pressing his hand over his mouth and slouching in his seat. His arm is draped over Calum’s shoulders, fingers twisting in the hem of Calum’s t-shirt sleeve. Calum himself doesn’t seem to be coping well, face pained as he pretends to play on his phone.

Luke says nothing more.

Michael sucks in a sharp breath as the conversation around them continues, a little dizzy as hysterical laughter bubbles behind his lips.

“Maybe he’ll see the similarities,” Jace mutters from beside him.

“I had three heart attacks just then,” Michael hisses, dropping his head into his hand. “Fuck’s sake, are you _trying_ to kill me?”  

Chuckling quietly, Jace massages his shoulder. “I’m trying to make him open his eyes.”

“I don’t think anything other than me dying will make him accept it,” Michael mumbles, tipping his head onto Jace’s shoulder with a tired sigh. He hums, content, as Jace sinks his fingers into his hair. “ _Oh_ , yeah, mmhmm, keep doin’ that, that’s nice.”

Jace doesn’t answer, just keeps stroking his hair and lapses into silence.

Michael probably should ask what he’s thinking so hard about but the lazy contentment stealing through him as nails gently scratch his scalp stops the thought before it even occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment and tell me if it was funny or not, and if the serious conversation got too repetitive??? I'm honestly not sure...but at the same time, Jace, Ash and Cal are all trying to hammer the same things into Michael's head. 
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading - every single one of you <3 Drop me a comment to yell and rant and whatever else you want to say ahaha 
> 
> Prepare for the explosions in chapter 18 ^_^ Find shelter. And protective gear. It's gonna be a wild ride!


	18. Strung out on you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my beautiful readers, here's chapter 18 ;) 5.7k worth of drama and stuff hahaha no spoilers, of course, so I really hope you enjoy!!

Stepping out into Japanese air is like breaking the surface of a pool and filling his lungs with sweet air.

Michael is bouncing as they are herded towards the cars, smile wide across his face, truly _happy,_ as he waves at the fans. A fresh round of screams ripple through the crowd. He laughs, blowing kisses to the fans on the upper levels.

 “You’re glowing,” Calum says, coming up beside him. “I think a couple of girls fainted when you smiled at them.”

Michael grins. “I fucking love Japan.”

_“Maikeru! Maikeru! Maikeru!”_

“And Japan fucking loves you,” Calum replies, snorting. But his own smile is bright, eyes gleaming as he looks around. “Man, I love this place.”

Jace winks at him when Michael looks at him over his shoulder, mouthing, _“This is insane,”_ as he gestures to the hundreds of fans flocked against the barriers and the security guards keeping them back.

Michael laughs, shrugging.

This is the first time Jace had seen the extent to which their fans would go, the sheer love that Michael feels for them for supporting their little band.

“An actual rockstar,” Jace says to him as they go through customs. “It’s fucking amazing.”

Michael grins.

As they scramble into cars and go speeding through the sprawling metropolis that makes up Nagoya, he finds himself sitting next to Luke and chatting excitedly about the upcoming shows. He’s secretly glad that Jace had chosen to go in the other car with Ashton.

He’s also glad, three hours later, to find out that _her_ room is three floors below theirs because it means that there would no unnecessary questions about why Jace had a separate room.

Jace makes sure that he’s in Michael’s room until Luke goes to bed, lounging around on the big king bed as Michael says goodnight in the doorway.

“You know, I’ll be so happy when this is over,” Jace says when Michael shuts the door. “So. Fucking. Happy.”

Michael sticks out his tongue and locks himself in the bathroom. When he comes out, Jace is gone. There’s little piece of paper in his place on the bed.

 

_You have twenty-four hours. Be prepared._

 

Frowning, Michael sets the paper on the bedside table and gets into bed. _Twenty-four hours? For what?_

 

*

 

The first concert gets off to a blazing start.

Michael blinks back tears as the crowd screams, chants his name and cheers for almost four minutes as he stands, shrouded in blue light, before Jet Black Heart. His throat is choked up when he finally manages to start singing.

Calum and Luke are glowing as they burst onto the stage for the chorus and Ashton throws him a brilliant grin over the cymbals when he turns around.

When he runs off stage after the encore, the arena is shaking with the cheers of the crowd and Michael floats on the adrenalin high all the way back to the dressing room.

He sees a glimpse of Ashton and Calum bickering as they walk down the hallway behind him. He sees her accost Luke just as he gets off the stage. Michael swallows his feelings and grabs his bag, shrugging at Zoe when she steps in front of him.

“I’m gonna go back to the hotel.” When she makes to talk, he stops her. “I’ll eat there, I swear. I’m just…I’m tired. Tell Ashton.”

Zoe sighs, resigned, and glances around the corner before nodding. “Fine. One-time thing, alright, Mike? Go get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michael thanks the Gods as he slips out the back door without a backward look.

 

*

 

The door to his hotel room flies open fifteen minutes later and he looks up from his suitcase with wide eyes as Luke bursts through, letting the door bang shut behind him.

“You do that to me again and I swear, Michael, I’ll kill you myself,” Luke rushes out as he strides across the room. _“Fuck you.”_

Michael has two very short seconds to frown in confusion before their eyes meet and the world seems to _flare,_ and then, rather unexpectedly, Luke leans down and kisses him.

He flails, almost falling backwards as shock courses through him but Luke grabs him by the neck of his shirt and holds him in place.

_He can’t do this again. He can’t—this can’t happen, not like this again—_

Michael tries desperately to collect his thoughts, which is bloody fucking difficult given the fact that Luke is a fucking _fantastic_ kisser without the heat of adrenalin and blood sour on their tongues, and he manages to yank his mouth away and gasp, “Wait—Luke, we sho—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Luke mutters, fists tightening in fabric before he reels him back in. “Just shut up, Michael.”

Michael’s brain is melting out through his ears, fistfuls of Luke’s hair clenched in his fingers, as Luke’s desperate kiss tugs at his mouth, teeth pulling at his lips and tongue curling around his own in heated strokes.

“You’re okay,” Luke finally whispers, his breath hot and wet against Michael’s mouth. His eyes are wild, deep and _burning_ flame-blue as he holds Michael’s gaze, thumbs arcing over his cheekbones, a steady pressure like he’s making sure Michael is really there. _“_ I thought— _fuck,_ Mikey, _you’re okay.”_

It finally crumbles down around Michael and it’s all he can do not to gasp out loud, his heart squeezing in his chest as he realises that Luke thought he’d been _hurt,_ that he’d been injured on stage again—

“I love you.” The words are wrenched out of Luke and he shudders in Michael’s grip, foreheads grinding together as he squeezes Michael in his arms. “I love you so much, Michael, _fuck_. You scared the shit out of me, disappearing like that, and no one would fucking tell me _anything_ —all Ashton fucking told me was that you’d hurt yourself and all I could think was that I couldn’t do that again, I couldn’t watch while you—don’t you dare do that to me again.”

Michael stares at the slope of his nose, jaw clicking open, trying to sort through the haze of shock in his head, trying to find _words_ , before he gives up, curls his fingers against Luke’s scalp and pulls him into a bruising kiss.

The urgency that drives the second kiss is molten through his veins and Michael feels every press of Luke's fingers against his skin like the static strike of lightning. Luke is pressing him back hard into the wall and his feet are braced at awkward angles and Michael sinks back, slow, until Luke is pressed against him from chest to foot. 

“I’m fine,” he manages to get out. Although, maybe not, considering that the lack of blood in his brain might make him pass out. _“I’m fine.”_

He pours out his heart into the tug of their mouths, into the soft flick of his tongue, into the curl of his fingers into sweat soaked hair. 

“I love you,” Luke breathes into the gasp of air between kisses.

And Michael wonders if his pounding heart will explode like a supernova as Luke settles into the slower rhythm and kisses him back with the same desire, brow furrowed and hands lingering as they sweep over Michael’s body.

"Well, well, well." 

It breaks them apart like a thunderclap, Luke springing back until he's pressed against the opposite wall, flushed and breathing heavily and staring at Michael with wide, painfully clear blue eyes. 

It sends tiny bolts of electricity through him, Luke’s fingerprints burning where his hands had been, and Michael shudders, biting at his swollen lower lip as he turns towards the interruption. It makes a shiver ripple down his spine as he feels the ghost of Luke’s teeth in his place.

Jace leans in the now open doorway, face expressionless save the glint of amusement Michael can distinguish in his eyes. Michael chances a glance at Luke and blanches at the all too familiar gut-churning horror and guilt he sees crashing into Luke's twisting expression as he remains frozen in place. 

"Oh my god," he starts to say. "Shit, I’m—"

But Luke doesn't get to finish because a loud guffaw startles them and Michael has to look away from Luke's reddening cheeks to Jace. Jace whose laughter is bright and relieved, his mouth stretched wide and open, teeth glinting white.

"Thank fucking god, _finally!”_

Footsteps thunder on the carpeted floors outside and a door slams in the hallway as Michael blinks wide at the laughing man in front of them. And then it dawns on him and the flush that burns through him makes the room feel twenty degrees warmer. 

Luke lets out a strangled sound. "The fuck?" 

He can't answer that. Not when his brain is still swimming around in Luke's eyes and rolling around in Luke's warm, sweat-soaked smell, with the urge to throw everyone out and drag Luke to bed boiling in his veins. Michael doesn’t think he’s ever been a fan of the way Luke smelled after a concert, but right here in this moment, he’s been set on fire and everything about Luke is lighting him up in ways he hasn’t felt in years.

 _I love you._ Luke’s voice echoes in his ears. _I love you so much, Michael._

He might die before he gets Luke anywhere near a bed.

"Hey!" Jace hollers, poking his head out into the hallway. Michael spares a thought for the other guests on this floor. "Guys, it happened. It fucking finally happened!" 

Ashton and Calum sprint into view and in through the hotel room door, grabbing each other to prevent from falling over as they skid to a stop in their socks. 

“It actually worked!” Jace grins, and there’s a round of high-fives between the three of them.

Ashton drags Jace and Calum into a hug and Michael watches as they jump around in a circle, jostling each other like a champion football team, relieved laughter bubbling between them. He exchanges a startled look with Luke.

"Holy fuck," Calum says eventually as they break apart, blunt and disbelieving as he stares at the two of them. "Fucking finally." 

Ashton's grin spreads wider and wider until Michael wonders if his face will literally crack in half. “Didn’t think I’d live to see this day.”

"I was actually beginning to lose hope," Jace is saying as Michael tunes into the conversation after a moment of stunned disbelief. "It's been like, what, five months?" 

A chuckle comes from Ashton. "Almost six. Didn’t think anything would happen after Doomsday in Bali.”

Jace snorts. “Too fucking right.” 

Michael rubs the back of his neck. "Jesus Christ, please fuck off." 

"We're over, Mikey. I’ve dreamt about saying that for weeks.” The smirk Jace gives is wicked and self-satisfied. He cackles. “I think it's about time, eh?"  

"Fuck you." 

"Do not fuck this up again," Calum says with a shake of his head. "I have suffered enough." 

Michael has the urge to pout and exclaim, _you?! What about me?!_ But he ignores it as Luke shuffles in the corner of his gaze.

Ashton groans in agreement. “I know right—”

"What the fuck is happening?" Luke demands, cutting over the conversation. 

Michael freezes, gaze locked on Ashton's half amused, half _get the fuck on with it_ expression. 

"Well, Hemmings," Jace flicks a look at Michael, "It's time to say goodbye and it's likely you'll never seen me again." 

"How unfortunate." 

Michael knows that there's no love lost between Luke and Jace, on both of their parts, but to hear the disdain in Luke's voice when he speaks is thrilling and horrifyingly, confusingly arousing. 

Jace's eyebrow ticks up and he flashes Michael a look that speaks volumes of long-suffering and frustration. The knowing glint in his eyes makes Michael flush. "I expect fruit baskets and chocolate and eternal grovelling, Mikey—”

 _“Stop calling him that,”_ Luke snaps.

It rings through the room like a whiplash and the silence that follows is pregnant with amusement.

Michael stares at him for a few moments with wide eyes before a small grin pulls at the corners of his mouth as he watches the flush bleed darker across Luke’s cheekbones. But Luke doesn’t back down, eyes hard and glittering down at Jace.  

“Wow. Told you he was jealous.” Jace grins after a second, raising an eyebrow at Michael when he sticks out his tongue. “That’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

When Luke just continues to glare, Jace snorts.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Oh, and Michael, tell Louis that it's been great but I'm never doing this again. One fake boyfriend is enough to last me a fucking lifetime or the stress would probably see me in rehab before thirty with anxiety issues.”

Michael strides across the room, chewing on his lip, and grins as Jace opens his arms to engulf him into a bone-crushing hug. He wraps his arms tight around Jace, relief and gratefulness buzzing around him, chin hooked over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For everything.”

Jace’s arms tighten even more. “Yeah. It’s been fun.” He sighs, deflating a little, the bravado dimming. “I’m gonna miss you, rockstar.”

“You’re going home, idiot, not off to war,” Michael says, pulling back from the hug to study the hesitance in Jace’s expression. “Text me, alright? Besides, I’ll still send you memes at two a.m.”

Jace steps back with a smile that has relief creased into the corners.

“Oi,” Ashton says. Jace turns to him, lips quirking to the side and a affectionate light in his eyes, and Ashton’s expression melts into one of gratitude. “Thank you…for all of it. Keep in touch, alright, asshole?”

Michael is still so fucking curious but, _ugh,_ for the sake of being a good friend, he hasn’t gone breaking down Ashton’s door to find out what the hell all of that had been about.

Jace thumps Ashton’s shoulder, saluting obnoxiously before blowing a kiss at Michael. “Aye, _aye,_ Captain. See ya, Calum Hood, it’s been nice to get to know you. Oh, and _Mikey_ ,” blue eyes glitter with amusement, “I’ll talk to you in like a month, ‘cos God fucking knows I’ve had enough of you. I need a flight back home and sleep, lots and lots of sleep…" 

He sails out the door with his voice trailing behind him, but pops back in before the door can even close behind him.

“By the way, I’m gonna call Peyton so he can finally take me on that backpacking trip through Italy,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “Look out for the photos. I’m gonna annoy you so much.”

Michael grins. “I owe you, dude. I _expect_ it. Photos, videos, the whole package.”

“Babe, I _am_ the whole package.” Jace winks and vanishes around the doorframe.

Ashton snorts. "I'm gonna miss him," he says fondly, a little sadly. 

Calum rolls his eyes but grins nonetheless. "Yeah, he’s one of the good ones.”

 _"Fake boyfriend?"_ Luke hisses and any resulting amusement Michael felt from Jace’s theatrical departure fades away. 

“Well, that cat’s out of the bag,” Calum declares cheerfully as he turns his attention towards the furious blonde.

Sheepishness sets in and Michael casts panicked glance at the two next to him. Calum is absolutely of no use, backing out with his hands held up and a violent shake of his head. 

“Not getting involved.”

“You’re already involved!” Michael yells after him in vain, flushing as Luke turns the disbelieving, indignant expression on him.

Ashton is a little more sympathetic. "Tell him. He deserves to know the shit you put yourself through." He turns to leave but doubles back. "Oh, and Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ruin Japan over this." 

Despite the terrified clench in the pit of his stomach, Michael smiles, watching the door close. Then he grimaces as he turns to Luke. “Out of everything he said, _that’s_ what you’re focusing on?”

Luke’s boot-clad foot taps impatiently on the carpet.  

Michael sighs and resigns himself to a night of painful explanations.

 

*

 

“You’re telling me that you’ve been fake dating him for the past _six fucking months?_ And _lying to me_ about it?”

Michael taps his fingers against his bottle, squirming inwardly, and shrugs. “Yeah.”

Luke blinks at him, the Coke in his hand abandoned in favour of staring at Michael with wide eyes. “This was Louis’ idea? And you actually went along with it?”

“Look, okay, I’d just like, had every horrible nightmare come to life and you want me to explain to you _why_ I did it? Besides, I’m ninety-percent sure Louis was joking but Harry _wasn’t_ , although I don’t think he meant for me to get a fake boyfriend, just a real one, but—I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. I couldn’t.”

A snort. “I wonder why.”

“Shut up.” Michael rolls his eyes. “It’s not funny. I was miserable for years and you didn’t even notice.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says and the mood spins on its head so fast Michael has to blink. Luke’s expression is tortured as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry, Mikey.”

Michael taps his fingers on the table. Something lands heavy in the pit of his stomach. “What’re you sorry for?” He asks quietly.

 “For… _God,_ for everything…I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t know what to do, I—I was a dick.”

“Was?” Michael says reflexively. He flinches. “Sorry, sorry. Habit. Um—Look. It’s alright, apology accepted. I’m okay and…” He trails off, at a loss. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. About the whole…Jace thing. But—”

Luke flashes a sudden grin that lights up his blue eyes. Michael does not swoon. “But you do like me.”

_I’m in love with you, idiot._

“I’m seriously reconsidering my life choices.”

“You aren’t. You like me too much,” Luke declares triumphantly with a flutter of his eyelashes.

Michael scowls. “Yes well, fucking try watching the person you like date a girl who wants the glitz and glamour and none of the passion, who thinks she _owns_ him because of who she is and what she can do.”

Luke doesn’t disagree. But he sighs then, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his Coke. “I can relate.”

Michael snorts, raising an eyebrow. “Clearly _you_ were just too jealous of Jace to get to know him properly. He’s a good guy, Luke. He’s been pushing me to tell you for weeks.”

Luke’s expression darkens. “He’s a stupid bastard with stupid hair who should—Oh. Oh, well _shit_.” He lowers the bottle, blue eyes bright and wide as he catches Michael’s gaze. The shadow on his face flees. “I can’t believe…I thought he looked like _Jack,_ but he looks like _me_ , doesn’t he? He looks exactly like me!”

The flush that burns in Michael’s cheeks is hot and uncomfortable as he ducks his head. “Fuck off. We’re not getting into that.”

Luke almost sounds awed. A faint undercurrent of amusement thrums in his voice. “Your type is _me_.”

“Please. Shut. Up.” Michael begs, rubbing a palm down his face as humiliation churns his stomach. “Okay. It wasn’t one of my finest mo—”

Suddenly, the bottle in his hand is yanked away and he’s got a lapful of Luke Hemmings.

He blinks in surprise, hands resting automatically on Luke’s thighs as he stares up at dark, determined blue eyes. “Uh…hi?”

Luke says nothing, his hands cool and slightly wet from the condensation of the Coke bottle as he cups Michael’s jaw and pulls him up into a kiss that burns right through Michael as if he’s been dropped in acid. All he can do is open his mouth and kiss back.

“I love you,” Luke says firmly as he pulls back, leaving Michael dazed and trying to clear his head, attempting to rediscover the English language which had dribbled right out of his mind when Luke’s tongue had slipped into his mouth. “I love you, Mikey.”

He nods absently for a moment before he understands what Luke is saying. And now Luke is watching him, head tipped to the side and a bemused smile pulling his lips upward.

“Oh!” Michael can’t hold back the breathless laugh that tumbles out of him. His stomach is warm, heartbeat steady under Luke’s palm and he grins, brushing his thumb across Luke’s cheek. “Have you realised it yet or are you still being an oblivious shit?”

He gets his nipple twisted for that, Luke growling at him. “Fuck you.”

Michael sighs, long-suffering _._ “Do I have to spell it out for you? Write you another song? Because fuck, Luke, if you haven’t realised how I feel about you with all the shit that’s happened, I might ask Jace—”

“Bring that fucker anywhere near me and I swear—”

Michael leans up and presses his mouth to Luke’s, just to shut him up. “I like you jealous,” he says, grinning. “But that wasn’t an answer.”

“You love me.” Luke’s grip tightens where his hands had slid to Michael’s neck, eyes a brilliant blue and mouth tipping upward. A dimple pops. “You actually love me.”

Michael groans then, letting his head fall onto Luke’s shoulder, adjusting Luke in his lap. “Oh, thank _fuck_. I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old. Your mother realised before I did, did you know that? She gave me the talk, Luke, I—Do you need me to go on because I can but fucking hell, if you don’t make me stop talking and kiss me, I’ll—”  

Giggling laughter is spilling out of Luke and Michael shuts up, heart soaring as he pulls back from where he’s hiding his flushed cheeks. Luke catches his eyes.

“I think I’ve always loved you,” Luke says, quiet now. His hands linger on Michael’s cheeks, tracing over his jaw with a soft, aching touch. “But I didn’t realise I was in love with you till—”

“Jace came along,” Michael finishes for him, sniggering when Luke gives him a flat look. “I can’t believe you guys _punched_ each other over me.”

“You’re ruining the moment.”

“You’ve been ruining the moment for five years.”

Luke gapes, affronted, before letting his forehead drop onto Michael’s. “Dick.”

“You’re the dick,” Michael mutters, enjoying the way Luke’s nose rubs along his own. He lets his eyelids droop. “Didn’t even realise why you were so angry until I was making out with my own boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” Luke grumbles.

“Details.” Michael grins, pressing a kiss to the corner of Luke’s mouth. “You were jealous.”

“Yeah, I was.” A thrill goes through Michael to finally hear the blunt agreement. “I just didn’t want to be.”

“So, you turned into a tornado of repressed jealous angst and started accusing me of not _doing my job_ and torturing my boyfriend _.”_

 _“Fake_ boyfriend,” Luke mutters. He chuckles sheepishly then. “Not my proudest moment.”

“Let it go, babe, let it go. And no, it wasn’t,” Michael snorts. “I wanted to punch you in your perfect teeth.”

“Stop quoting Tony Stark.”

“Stop being annoying and kiss me. We have plenty of time to talk. We have the rest of forever.”

Luke smiles, eyebrow rising. His eyes shine like polished sapphires. “Planning to spend forever with me?”

“I didn’t go through hell to let you go when I’ve finally gotten you. Now, shut up, Luke.” Michael lets his thumbs slips under Luke’s shirt, sliding along the waist band until he’s fiddling with the button of his jeans, suggestive and devilish. He waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve waited more than five years to get you like this.”

Luke feigns irritation but Michael feels his lips pull into a smile as he tilts Michael’s chin up and catches his mouth in a kiss.

 

*

 

He makes Luke go back to his own room and shower after they spend better part of an hour making out in that chair, given that both of them are rank with stage sweat and their clothes are sticking to them uncomfortably. He’s reluctant to let go when Luke finally tries to climb off his lap, a spark of fear in the back of his mind that if Luke leaves, he won’t come back.

“Hey,” Luke says softly, forehead resting against Michael’s, “It’s okay. Ten minutes, tops. I’ll be back, I promise.”

Michael lets out a shaky breath and presses a kiss to Luke’s mouth before he slackens his grip on Luke’s shirt. “Yeah.”

Luke slips out the door with a backward glance and a tiny smile that sits, soft and warm, in Michael’s chest.

Exhaustion is kicking in as Michael comes out of the shower and he blinks blearily at the door when a knock comes, before picking his way across to the door and opening it.

He ends up with an armful of Luke and an insistent mouth on his, Luke pushing him backward into his room and shutting the door with his foot. Michael lets himself be pushed, chest aching with the grin trapped inside, and falls backward onto the bed.

“Aren’t you tired?” He asks as Luke pulls away with a gasp.

Luke drops himself half on top of Michael, one leg between Michael’s thighs, and says nothing, just pulls him up into a bruising kiss, licking into his mouth and digging fingers into wet hair.

He chuckles into Luke’s mouth and rolls them over. “I’m tired,” he murmurs against Luke’s lips and nips at the full lower one, earning a choked noise.

“Can I sleep here?”

Michael pulls back to look at him, brushing his fingers over his ears, thumbing over the lip ring that glints glossy blank in the dim light. “You’re even more of an idiot than I thought if you think that I’d let you leave now.”

Luke’s smile is pressed into Michael’s throat.

When Luke eventually falls asleep with a smile settled across his swollen lips, Michael slowly—reluctantly—untangles himself and throws on a shirt. But when he opens the door to leave, he almost ends up with Ashton’s fist in his face.

 _“_ Whoa _,_ dude _,”_ he hisses, ducking.

Ashton pulls back with a startled sound and lowers his hand, laughing. “Sorry. Whoa, _dude,_ you look like you’ve been attacked by a vacuum cleaner and then electrocuted.”

Michael makes a face, suddenly feeling all the bites on his neck throb. He runs a cursory hand through his hair, flattening it. “Fuck off, man.”

“Hey, I never said it was a bad thing.” Ashton backs away, hands raised in surrender as he grins. “Where’re you going, anyway? Thought you’d stay glued to Luke till you were forced to move for the show tomorrow.”

Snorting quietly, Michael slips out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him. “He’s asleep. Gotta go find Jace, actually. I should say thank him properly. Any reason you were about to knock on my door?”

“Coincidentally to tell you that Jace wanted to see you before he left. I think his flight’s in four, five hours or something,” Ashton says, chuckling. “Well, that’s my good deed done for the day. Gotta go, Cal’s waiting for me.”

Michael frowns. “It’s like, two thirty in the morning, shouldn’t you two be asleep?”

“Oh, uh…yeah, uh, he couldn’t sleep so we’re, uh, marathoning Shameless.”

He disappears with a flash of teeth and Michael, too distracted to care about Ashton’s shifty behaviour, wonders down the hallway in search of Jace’s hotel room.

When he finds it and knocks, soft music starts up inside before the door swings open to Jace’s blank expression.

_“I gotta say what’s on my mind, something about us doesn’t seem right these days…”_

Michael starts grinning the moment he realises what the song is. Jace’s eyes twinkle.

_“Life keeps getting in the way… whenever we try, somehow the plan is always rearranged…”_

He laughs and laughs until Jace’s stone façade cracks and a beaming, cheeky grin spreads from ear-to-ear.

_“It’s so hard to say, but I gotta do what’s best for me…”_

“Oh my god,” Michael gasps, wiping his eyes. “I really hate you.”

_“You’ll be okay…”_

Jace says nothing, stepping aside to let Michael into the room and shutting the door behind him. As soon as the chorus hits though, Jace bursts into song at the top of his voice and Michael gasps for breath through the hysterical laughter.

 _“I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON AND BE WHO I AM!”_ Jace hollers, jumping onto the bed. “ _I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND, WE MIGHT FIND OUR PLACE IN THIS WORLD SOME DAY, but at least for now…I gotta go my own way.”_

Michael’s knees give way and he falls to the floor, stomach cramping as Jace gestures dramatically at him, one hand clutching at his shirt over his heart and the other aimed out at Michael.

 _“Don’t want to leave it all behind,”_ Jace murmurs, suddenly quiet, expression twisting into one of exaggerated agony. _“But I get my hopes up and watch them fall every time.”_

“ _Another colour turns to grey, and it’s just too hard to watch it all slowly fade away…I’m leaving today, ‘cos I gotta do what’s best for me, you’ll be okay…”_

Michael jumps to his feet as the song breaks into the chorus and Jace is grinning as their voices rise to ring around the room.

“ _I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON AND BE WHO I AM! I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND, WE MIGHT FIND OUR PLACE IN THIS WORLD SOME DAY, BUT AT LEAST FOR NOW…I GOTTA GO MY OWN WAY.”_

He feels a little sorry for the people in the rooms next to them but as the bridge hits, he feels bad for not caring as much as he probably should about the noise complaints that would come.

 _“What about us?”_ He begs Jace, throwing his hands out wide. _“What about everything we’ve been through?!”_

 _“What about trust?!”_ Jace demands, face pained.

_“You know I never wanted to hurt you!”_

Jace visibly bites back laughter. _“What about me?!”_ He sings, voice scratching, hands pressing against his chest.

 _“What am I supposed to do?!”_ Michael pleads, dropping to his knees.

Jace hops off the bed, coming to stand in front of Michael, and cups his cheek with a hilariously miserable expression. Blue eyes glitter. _“I gotta leave but I’ll miss you.”_

Cheeks wet with tears, the two of them collapse into each other, laughter ringing around the room and drowning out the music as Gabriella and Troy continue to sing.

Michael sucks in a breath eventually and bats away the hand on his cheek. “Oh god, turn it off, I think I’m dying.”

Chuckling still, Jace reaches for the phone in his back pocket and thumbs the song away, letting silence descend through the room. Backs pressed against the bed from where they’re sitting on the floor, Michael shuffles until their shoulders are pressed together as the laughter slowly fades away.

“Ashton told him that you’d hurt yourself,” Jace says, chuckling. “You told me that nothing short of you dying would make him admit anything to himself so…”

Michael gapes at him.

Jace just arches an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I can’t believe it worked. We had no details to give if he stopped to ask questions but thank god for his impulsive behaviour. He literally just took off as soon as the words were out of Ashton’s mouth.”

“You _planned_ this?!”

“I did tell you that you had twenty-four hours.”

“You…” Michael trails off, stumped. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Snorting, Jace jostles his shoulder. “It worked, didn’t it? I told you, that fruit basket? I’ll be waiting for it.”

Michael huffs a disbelieving laugh and lets silence linger comfortably between them.

“I knew he’d be a biter,” Jace says suddenly.

“Who?”

He laughs. “Luke. With that constant lip-biting habit of his, there was no way he wasn’t gonna be the biting type.”

Michael shoves him, heat rising in his cheeks. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, Mike, it looks like you had a run in with Dracula.”

“Fuck off.”

Jace cackles and Michael yelps, spine tingling, as fingers dig into a bruise over his collarbone.

 _“Go away,”_ Michael whines, pushing until Jace goes sprawling across the carpet. “Stop laughing, it took me five fucking years to get these.”

Jace throws his arms over his eyes and continues to laugh. “Pathetic. Both of you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and slouches against the foot of the bed. “What time’s your flight, asshole?”

“Seven. Johnny’s getting me a taxi from the lobby in,” he raises his head to look at his watch and leaps up to his feet, “ _shit,_ ten minutes!”

Unsurprised, Michael shakes his head, fondness unfurling in his chest as he watches Jace stuff the remaining clothes and random items into his suitcase.

“Here,” Jace says, and throws something at him. “Reminded me of you.”

In his hands is a Fennekin hat. A grin spreads across his face and Michael jams it over his hair immediately. “Best gift ever,” he says, fiddling with the ears. “Thanks, man.”

Jace throws him a fond smile over his shoulder. “Wear it out tomorrow, yeah, so I can look at the pictures and laugh at you.”

“Oh, and here I thought you bought it because you were being nice.”

“Never.”

With a sigh, Michael climbs to his feet and crosses the room to turn Jace around and pull him into a hug. Jace deflates into it with a chuckle, squeezing him tight.

“Do you have to go?” Michael mumbles into fabric.

“Well, considering that I’ve missed a bunch of classes this weekend, yeah. If I miss much more, I’ll never catch up and then I’ll fail and I will come find you if that happens.”

Michael cringes, chin digging further into Jace’s shoulder. “Shit. Sorry…”

Jace pulls away with a soft punch aimed at Michael’s chest. “Nah, it’s fine. I can get the notes from a friend. I’m glad you brought me along, both to Japan and Bali. It’s been nice to see places I wouldn’t have gone to, so…thank you for everything.”

“You got a boyfriend out of it,” Michael says, grinning. “Have fun in Italy, whenever that happens. Keep in touch, okay? We’ve been through too much shit to have you go radio silence on me.”

He gets a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek before Jace pulls away with a wink. “I’ll text you, rockstar. Ashton, too.”

Michael sits on the bed as Jace zips up his suitcase and packs up his laptop into the carry-on bag. “I still want to know about that, you know.”

“I can’t believe he hasn’t told you guys get,” is the response. “He’s sorted most of it out.”

He huffs. “Great, now he’s keeping secrets.”

Jace laughs, shouldering his bag and pulling his suitcase to the door. “He’ll tell you soon, probably. Just…keep an open mind.”

Michael rolls his eyes and hugs him one last time as they close the door of the hotel room. “Have a safe flight, Jay.”

“Go back to Luke. I’ll see you on the flipside, rockstar.” Jace grins and walks away down the hallway to the elevators.

Michael watches him go with a smile and turns around to go back to his room, heartbeat rising as he gleefully realises that going back to Luke in his bed would be a thing now.

 

_From: Jace_

_Peyton says_

_And I quote_

_“Thank fucking god they got their shit together cos now I’ve got you to myself”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL.
> 
> FUCKING FINALLY, AMIRIGHT?! 
> 
> I hope it lived up to your expectations or made it better. Either way, please do come and yell at me as much as you want ;) There's gonna be four or five moe chapters in this fic! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	19. Let the moon sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIGHT. Now...fair warning, this is not a fun chapter. It's Luke and JBH and the conversation that follows. But I swear the pain is done after this. It's be sunshine and rainbows and sex after this. It will be fluff and snappy humour and one-liners and ot4 and FUN THINGS!!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for a panic attack - It's not overly descriptive, Michael finds it difficult to breath and has to slowly work his way back to a normal breathing pattern. But I thought I'd add a warning anyway cos I know panic attacks aren't fun. 
> 
> SO YES! Chapter 19! It's not long but it's necessary and heartbreakingly beautiful :') (I hope.)

Michael realises how much Jet Black Heart really means to him the next night, in Osaka, as he stands alone on stage in front of chanting fans and tries to swallow down the sphere of tight silver lodged in his throat as the blue spotlight curls around him in a halo.

He and Luke had spent the day together, stealing away in-between the hectic interviews schedule to hide in bathroom for the spare minutes they could, poking each other behind Ashton’s back and leaving Calum rolling his eyes on his other side. It had been a good day, a _brilliant_ day, because there had been no time for anything else except interviews and preparing for the show, and Michael feels like he should’ve known that it would go downhill.

The rough grate of his breathing seems to thunder through the arena, microphone picking up the tortured sound as he stands too close it. He flinches a little, fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar, heart clenching when he sees a girl in the front row break down in tears.

As he takes a slow breath and starts to sing, Michael’s mind is static.

He _is_ terrified.

When he had first written the song, it had been one of those nights where he had been in a dark place, exhausted both mentally and physically. When all his insecurities and anxiety had drowned him so far within his mind that only silent words could come spilling out onto a page. When his skin had been crawling and his throat thick with fear. When Luke had slept peacefully next to him on that couch and he could only try to breathe quietly against the rising tide of whispering voices.

Now, now as he thinks about Luke, _his_ Luke finally, the anxiety burns a hole in his stomach. He could lose Luke now, with the black tar pit in his head. He could, _god—_ Michael could _lose him._  

_“Cos I’ve got a jet black heart—”_

He catches Luke’s eyes accidentally just as the stage lights blaze to life around them. He’s staring at Michael, eyes wide and clear and _horrified_ in the split second between lyrics, mouth slack as if he’s been throttled, clubbed over the head with a metal bat. Michael blanches at the expression on his face as Luke continues to gape at him, wondering what he sees that had brought that kind of shock to his face.

A funny feelings squirms in the pit of his stomach.

Michael has no time to reach out, to _ask,_ as the music soars around them and the song burns its way into the chorus, and he has to _sing,_ they have to sing, their voices soaring together on the beat of Michael’s heart as Ashton’s drums pound around them.

_“And there’s a hurricane underneath it tryna keep us apart…I write with a poison pen, but the chemicals moving between us are the reason to start again…”_

His heart crashes against his ribs as the song comes to an end a few minutes later, eyes a little misty and hands shaky as the realisation thrums in a tight ball in the hollow beneath his lungs.

When Michael can make himself look back, it’s to the soft tinkle of Luke’s acoustic guitar as he gears up for his speech before Vapour. Michael’s heart clenches, with pride and with the sheer _love_ he feels for the boy standing strong and shining like a beacon at centre-stage.

Certain that everything he’s feeling in that moment is in his eyes, Michael smiles and blinks away the stray tears with a soft laugh, reaching for his microphone.

“That, ladies and gentlemen, is true romance,” he says, gesturing to his left. His voice is amused but Luke’s smile lights a fire in the pit of his stomach, a burning ember between them. “Nothing says romance like Luke Hemmings with an acoustic guitar.”

The arena erupts, the stage beneath his feet shakes with the force of the screams. Ashton is saying something too, but his attention is on Luke.

Luke’s layers are stripped away in that moment and for the first time, Michael can see his heart in the shine of bright eyes and hear it in the huff of laughter that echoes around the arena as Luke speaks.

“I’m not sure about that.”

Michael grins and discreetly throws him the finger. His heart pounds. It seems to be doing that a lot today.

Luke’s answering smile is blinding.

 

*

 

Later that night, Michael is messing around on his phone, waiting for Luke, when a knock comes on his door.

Shifting off the bed, he pads barefoot across the carpet and pulls the door open, a smile pushing at his mouth when it reveals Luke on the other side.

“Hey.”

Luke steps past him without a sound, feet bare and silent on the carpet. His hands are tangled in each other, turning white as he wrings them.

“I…” his voice breaks when he tries to speak and Michael frowns, closing the door and coming to stand a few steps away. Luke grimaces, wringing his hands even more. “I’m so _sorry,”_ he says.

The words tumble out in an explosion of guilt and Michael blinks at him, chest aching at the misery on Luke’s face.

“Hey,” he says quietly, moving closer to Luke, and places a gentle hand on his twisted fingers. “What’re you sorry for? Unless you’ve done something to my laptop, obviously, because then I will have no mercy.”

The joke falls flat when Luke wrenches himself away and paces across the room. He tears a hand through his hair and Michael watches him helplessly, terror pooling in icy shavings at the pit of his stomach.

“I _know,”_ Luke says, spinning around. His eyes are wild. “I _know,_ okay? I know you wrote it about me.”

Michael’s heart stops in his chest.

“Oh,” he says weakly.

Luke’s shoulders drop at the obvious confirmation. “ _God,_ Mikey, I—how do you—hurricanes and poison and mistakes and demons—all this time, I… _fuck_ and I asked you who and I just realised that you never _answered_.”

Michael sits on the edge of the bed. “You came to me that night, I don’t know if you remember. I had written the first line and the title.” He lets out a breath. His chest shakes with the control he tries to hold on to as it slips through his fingers. “I’m fucked up, okay? There’s a lot of shit going on in my head and—”

Luke comes and sits next to him, close enough to offer comfort, their sides pressed together. Michael takes a moment to breathe.

“—and I know I can play the guitar and maybe I can sing—”

 _“You can sing._ Your voice is—wonderful, everyone loves your voice, Michael, you idiot.”

His heart breaks at the insistence, the despair that throws cracks across the words as Luke turns to him with stormy eyes. A watery laugh bubbles out of him at the _idiot_ and Luke’s eyes _blaze._  

“I don’t like myself sometimes,” Michael says quietly, wiping his eyes. “It’s something that…it comes and goes, and the voices terrify me and it’s, _god,_ it’s fucking paralysing to sit and listen to every fear that I’ve had shouting at me at the same time and I’m so _scared,_ okay? I’m fucking terrified that I’ll wake up one day and I’ll be back in fucking Quaker’s Hill and doing shit-all with my life and being a useless waste of space that no one will ever—”

“ _Breathe, Michael,”_ Luke interrupts, hand resting gentle on Michael’s back.

Michael stops abruptly, realising that there’s no air in his lungs, that his voice had been rising with the panic thundering through his chest, and he flails out blindly to find Luke’s chest, to feel the steady rise and fall beneath his hand, and opens his mouth and makes himself start breathing again. His head is hazy and buzzing.

It takes a while, and Luke’s soothing voice in his ear keeps his feet on the ground, letting him match their breathing, until, slowly, he can breathe on his own again.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. His face is hot to the touch as he rubs a hand across it. Tears streak across his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologise for, alright?” Luke rubs his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Michael droops and just concentrates on breathing with his hand on Luke’s chest. That’s when Luke starts talking.

“You see imperfections and flaws and think that you won’t be worth loving if other people see them too.” Luke reaches out to take his hand and Michael lets him, inhaling quietly. Luke’s grip is warm and solid. “I know you’re not perfect, okay? But you _shine,_ Michael. Whatever darkness you feel, you shine through that. Like the moon. You make the world a much better place, so many people out there _love_ you because you give them hope. You’re so full of hope and light and I wouldn’t want to be here without you—”

Luke’s voice cracks and Michael bites his lip hard, throat aching.

“You’re beautiful and talented and I love you _,_ Michael. I love you because of everything that you are. You don’t need to be perfect because you’re brilliant the way you are.”

Gentle fingers on his chin tilt his head up and tears slip free when he catches glittering blue eyes, curving down his cheek to shiver on the edge of his jaw. The corners of Luke’s mouth curl upwards and his thumb brushes a gentle arc across Michael’s jaw to catch a tear.

“I’m not leaving,” he says and Michael’s soul shudders at the firm resolve in Luke’s voice. “You won’t lose me because you’re fighting things I can’t see, ‘cos I’m gonna be right here fighting them with you.”

 _“Luke.”_ Michael’s voice is hoarse, rasping as it punches out of him. He curls tight fists into Luke’s shirt and just holds on because his life depends on it. If he lets go, everything would disappear like the smoke from Calum’s cigarettes into the darkness of the night. “Luke—I don’t—”

Luke’s grip on him tightens. “You deserve more than the universe,” he says, voice shaking. “And I swear, _I swear to you,_ I will do everything I can to give it to you.”

Michael sucks in a sharp breath and throws himself at Luke, pressing their mouths together in a frantic kiss that punches the air out of his lungs.

“You can do so much better than me.” Michael shakes with it, the words tearing out of him. He presses his tearing eyes into Luke’s neck and tries to uncurl his nails out of Luke’s shirt. He can’t. “I don’t want the universe, I just want you. I’m not—”

“You’re worth it,” Luke insists, squeezing him closer. His voice is as desperate as the grip he has on Michael’s back. “You’re worth everything _,_ Mikey—you _are_ my everything.”

“I love you,” Michael whispers, trying to breathe. His voice is weak through the roar in his ears. “I love you and I’m _trying,_ I…I don’t want to let you go, not—”

Luke presses his mouth to his temple and exhales heavily into his hair. “You don’t have to, _god,_ you never have to let me go. I don’t want you to, ever. When your head won’t leave you alone, talk to me, okay? Talk to me because I want you, I want to have you for the rest of our lives. Every part of you, even the not-nice parts.”

Michael can’t help but huff a tiny, amused laugh. “Not-nice parts.”

“Shut up, you silly, _silly,_ beautiful idiot,” Luke croaks, voice thick. He pulls back, bringing his hands up to cup Michael’s cheeks. His eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me, it’s you and me together, okay?”

Michael curls his hands around Luke’s wrists and inhales in and exhales out slowly, heartbeat steadying. He swallows and nods. “Yeah. You and me.”

They meet in a middle for a kiss that vibrates through Michael’s blood and settles in a thrumming ball in his heart. He presses their foreheads together.

“Thank you.”

Luke’s puff of breath is warm on his lips, his fingers gentle on his cheeks. _“You know it’s gonna get better,”_ he sings quietly.

Michael pushes his smile into Luke’s shoulder as he pulls them both down onto the bed. As they curl up into each other and Luke settles his head on Michael’s shoulder, something bright and alive pulses between them. Michael keeps his mind on it as he closes his eyes and lets the day’s exhaustion pull him into a darkness of sleep that doesn’t feel suffocating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah :') Luke is my BOY and Michael is stunning and I am slowly dying, goodBYE - I wrote almost all of this while listening to Save Myself by Ed Sheeran and JBH, and I somehow feel like that made this worse...thanks lads...
> 
> I hope the chapter was okay and not too forced or unrealistic, I really did try to make it work with the whole story. BUT PLEASE, leave comments and yell/criticise/cry at me, I am here for all of your thoughts. 
> 
> Many thanks and all the love to all of you <3 Thanks for reading!! Three more chapters to go ;)


	20. Symphony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY IM SORRY!! 
> 
> I've hit a brick wall and I can't climb over it. By brick wall, I mean Muke's first time, so you'll have to bear with me for a little longer for that. SIGH. 
> 
> So, I've decided to split up the chapter and post this half so I don't wait for months without doing an update. I'm sorry it's so short rip but it's a fun chapter! I swear the sexy times are on the way. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

When Luke had told him, it had been in the early, silent hours before dawn. They had both woken up slowly, the emotions of the day before settled under their skin, gentle in the brushes of fingers across sleep-warm skin. Michael had stared at him through the darkness, hands slack on Luke’s chest, uncertain of how he should feel after all the build-up of the months behind them.

 _You’re sure, right? That she got it?_ He had asked, fiddling with the necklace resting against Luke’s collarbone, dangling down towards the bed. _That she knows you’re not hers anymore?_

Luke had chuckled and leant forward to press a tickling kiss to his cheek. Then another to his forehead.   _I fucking hope so. M’yours now._

Michael had stifled the smile that bloomed across his face into his own arm and let Luke pull him in to his side and gloat about the warmth of Michael’s cheeks.

They have a day off today.

Michael of course is firmly on the side of staying in bed all day, stay just as they had been, and never letting go of the arm wrapped around his stomach.

Luke, however, has different plans. Obviously. Plans which include being social and a late breakfast down in the hotel’s restaurant.

 _We haven’t left this room in ten hours,_ he’d said. _We should at least go see our friends,_ he’d said. Michael thinks that their friends can suck it up without them for a few more hours. They spend enough time joined at the hip as it is.

“It’s too early for human interaction,” he whines as he’s dragged down the hallway towards the elevators on their floor. “I just wanna be with you.”

Luke grips his hand tighter at that and throws him a butter-wouldn’t-melt grin over his shoulder. Michael rolls his eyes heavenward and relents as the smile settles, warm and bright, in his chest.

 _Honeymoon phase,_ he mutters silently to himself. _Bloody honey—_

He goes crashing into Luke’s back and the thought breaks off in the middle. “What the bloody _f—”_

That’s when he sees the reason Luke had frozen in the empty area where the lifts are.

 _She_ has just stepped out of a lift, clearly looking for Luke, and is now staring at the two of them with wide eyes that quickly narrow as her gaze zeroes in on their tangled fingers.

“Luke,” she says slowly, voice hard, “would you like to explain what the fuck you’re doing?”

“Going to breakfast with Michael.”

The set of Luke’s jaw is stubborn, chin tilted upward and shoulders rolled back. He suddenly looks taller and broader, but the icy stubbornness is undercut by the steel grip he has on Michael’s hand.

“Did you forget that I was waiting for you last night? I told you that we were going out.”

Michael raises an eyebrow, something cold prickling in his stomach. Hadn’t Luke—

“And I told you that I didn’t want to. I broke up with you, remember? Before yesterday’s show, or have you conveniently forgotten that too?”

So, that’s where Luke had disappeared to.

Luke holds up his and Michael’s linked hands as punctuation and although the urge to shout _hah!_ in her face bubbles under his tongue, Michael wisely keeps his mouth shut. He’s _this_ close though. _This_ close.

“You don’t just _break up_ with me,” she scoffs, mouth twisting. “That’s not something you get to decide, Luke Hemmings.”

“Honey.” Michael can’t help piping up at that, because honestly _,_ is she serious? He rolls his eyes with a sharp laugh. “This might come as a shock to someone like you but that’s generally how the breaking up thing works. One person breaks up with the other.”

Her scowl is magnificent. “Nobody just _breaks up_ with me. That’s not how this fucking works.”

Luke opens his mouth and Michael tightens his grip to shut him up. “You don’t fucking own him, Arzaylea.” It’s probably the second time he’s spoken her name in six months and he spits it out like dripping, black poison. “He can do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, a wicked grin is slowly spreading across his face. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Michael is still nodding when Luke yanks him in for a bruising kiss, a killer grip on his hand and insistent fingers cupping his jaw. Michael swallows down the hysteria in his chest, the wild applause he wants to give, and curls his free hand into Luke’s hair, kisses back hard and deep until Luke pulls away panting.

Luke winks at him and turns to look at a gaping, horrified Arzaylea. “I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he repeats and Michael revels in the breathless tone. “I’m in love with him, alright? I always have been and I know you know it too. Why else would you be so fucking angry?” He snorts lightly. “We’re _over,_ Lea _.”_

A lift opens right on cue with a metallic _ding!_ and Luke tugs him into it.

 _“I’m the best fucking thing that happened to you!”_ She yells, throwing her hands out. Her hair flies as she gestures at herself. “How many connections have you made because of me?! Because of my parents?! You were _nothing_ when I met you!”

Luke stiffens.  

Michael jams a finger into the button to keep the doors open. Luke’s face is entirely expressionless in the most terrifying way Michael has ever seen, blank and cold like polished marble. He sucks in a tiny breath and squeezes Luke’s hand. When he gets a squeeze back, he breathes a little easier.

“Then why did you say yes to a date with a nobody?” Luke asks softly. His eyes flash. “Not your usual style. I wasn’t nothing when I met you, I was just an idiot. I know you used me and I’m just sorry I ever asked you out. And for the record, _Michael_ is the best thing that’s happened to me.”

As the lift doors close on the speechless, outraged girl, Luke’s shoulders drop like a boulder off a cliff. He deflates back against the metal wall behind them.

 _“Jesus Fucking Christ,”_ he exhales sluggishly and rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

Michael bursts into laughter. He laughs and laughs and laughs until he’s weak and leaning against the wall beside Luke, wiping his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he chortles, reaching out weakly to his right to pat Luke’s stomach. “I can’t believe you actually said _we’re over,_ that was the funniest fucking thing I have ever seen in my life—and you literally mauled me in front of her, I _can’t—_ ”

Luke throws him an exasperated look but the grin on his face belies it. “She’s gonna tell everyone, you know.”

Michael moves to cage him against the wall, leaning down slowly to sink his teeth into Luke’s lower lip, smirking as he feels Luke’s breathing hitch.

“Let her,” he murmurs against Luke’s lips. “I don’t care as long as you don’t.”

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

Michael is still chuckling as Luke surges forward the bare two inches between them and curls tight fingers into his collar to push his tongue into Michael’s mouth.

They’re both breathless by the time the elevator doors open to reveal Calum.

“Uh…” Michael moves away from Luke and starts laughing again when Calum eyes them for a moment before scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Hi, Calum.”

“I was just coming up to get you, on Ashton’s orders obviously,” Calum says, shaking his head. “I was all for leaving you to starve. Anyway, now that you’re here, let’s _go_. Breakfast waits for no one, not even for two idiots who finally got their shit together.”

Michael wraps his arm around Luke’s waist. “C’mon, _lover.”_

Luke barks a loud, dorky laugh and settles his arm over Michael’s shoulders only to lean in and press a smacking kiss to his temple as they make their way past the elevators.

“I’m think going to be sick,” Calum mutters, fake-retching, a hand pressed to his sternum.

“Forget being sick, you’ll never fucking guess what Luke did!” Michael exclaims, hip-checking Calum as they walk through the lobby towards the restaurant.

 

*

 

She doesn’t tell anyone.

Jace tells him that it’s because she doesn’t want to look like an idiot. Something about humiliation and the caustic backlash she would get for kicking up a fuss about two people who have nothing short of an army to watch their backs. An army which has been rooting for the two of them since the beginning and would probably stop the world in its tracks with the celebrations if the news came out anyway.

Michael just shrugs because hey, that probably isn’t wrong, and smirks, changing the subject to Peyton just to watch Jace’s face go up in flames.

 

*

 

Luke takes the cheesiest, cutest, most cliché selfie of him kissing Michael’s cheek. Michael himself is grinning like an idiot at the camera, eyes _shining_ like he’s some sort of Disney princess, and he looks so in love that he feels nauseated just looking at the photo.

Which is why he sends it to Louis and Harry. His phone starts vibrating wildly in his hands not even three seconds later.

Luke blinks at him and Michael chuckles, shrugging, as he presses answer.

 _“MICHAEL CLIFFORD!!!”_ is what comes echoing down the line through the speaker. _“Thank the bloody gods, you bloody idiots!”_

“Isn’t it two a.m. in London?” Michael asks, shaking his head with a spreading grin.

Louis’ snort is loud and expressive. _“Forget the fookin’ time—Hazza, oi, come here! Look at this!”_

Luke is shaking his head into his hand as Harry’s voice drifts out to them.

_“Oh my GOD…really? Luke finally stopped being a dickhead, then? They’re together now?”_

Michael bites his lip hard on the laugh that bubbles up as Luke’s head shoots up, expression horrified.

“How much did you tell them?!” He demanded with wide eyes.

Michael makes a face, coughing. He scratches the back of his neck. “Um…”

 _“Hemmings!”_ Louis exclaims, sounding surprised. _“Congratulations on getting your head out of your arse, bro, was wondering how long you’d take.”_

 _“Michael told us everything,”_ Harry clarifies, sounding amused. _“We’ve been getting regular updates since you started dating that girl. You were a bit of an arse.”_

Luke is glaring daggers at Michael and he just shrugs, trying to look as innocent as possible, because okay so maybe he _hadn’t_ told Luke just how much Harry and Louis knew about the whole situation. Which is to say…everything.

 _“A bit? A great big arse, you mean,”_ Louis says. _“I’m happy you got over yourself, babe. Was worried about Michael for a few months there. Lucky Jace was around.”_

Luke chokes and drags his palms down his face. “Yeah, uh…thanks, I guess?”

Michael takes pity on him. “In the end, Ashton told him that I’d gotten hurt again and he came bursting into my hotel room and kissed me until I had no choice but to tell him that I loved him too,” he explains, grinning as Louis and Harry burst into laughter.

Luke pouts at him.

 _“For the record, Michael, this beats the time I pretended to sleep with you to get back at Louis,”_ Harry says, chuckling. _“That lasted a few months, but this…it’ll make a banging song one day. You know, if you’d listened to me back then and talked to Luke, you could’ve been—”_

 _“You could’ve been shagging ages ago!”_ Louis interrupts, tone unimpressed.

 _“You’re_ the one who—you know what, never mind,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “At least _I_ didn’t pretend I was sleeping with someone else to...” He trails off as the words actually register in his head and flushes. “Oh. Right.”

 _“You did the same thing, you idiot,”_ Harry says, sniggering. _“Apparently, my plans are contagious.”_

“You mean you _didn’t_ have a thing with Harry?” Luke is gaping at Michael, shell-shocked. “But I thought…”

Michael stares at him for a long moment in complete disbelief before dropping his head into his hands and groaning. “Luke, you idiot.”

 _“If it makes you feel better, Luke, I thought they’d fucked too,”_ Louis mutters, tone flat.

The sharp sound of a slap rings tinny down the line and Louis whines a dejected plea of Harry’s name.

 _“How many times have we had this conversation, Lewis? It’s been three bloody years, get over it!”_ Harry says, exasperated. _“Anyway, I’m glad the two of you are together. Congratulations. We really should go to bed though.”_

“He’s just bitter that he didn’t figure out it was a joke,” Michael says, laughing as Louis continues to whinge in the background. “Thanks Harry, I’ll see you two around.”

“Bye,” Luke grumbles.

As he hangs up, Michael feel the snappy bite of a half-hearted punch to his arm. He looks up, amused, as Luke scowls at him.

“You let me believe that for _years.”_

Michael shakes his head, laughing as he fends off the onslaught of Luke’s frustrated jabs.

“I didn’t let you believe anything, you idiot, you never _asked._ I mean, I’m glad you think I could’ve pulled one of the hottest guys in the world but— _”_

Luke jumps at him with an aggravated yell and Michael throws his head back and laughs as they fall off the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, a tad short. But I swear the other half of the chapter will come!! I'm trying to write it and do it justice. 
> 
> As always, comments are always welcome and they'll help to motivate me to write hahaha 
> 
> Thank you for reading xx


	21. Baby blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I KNOW IT'S BEEN LIKE SIX MONTHS AND I AM SO SO SORRY ABOUT THAT. 
> 
> I've been struggling so much with the whole first time thing so I just decided to write what I could and actually post the rest of the finished story. Life also got busy and uni's been relatively INSANE. 
> 
> I hope you guys aren't too disappointed with the rest of the chapters. I'm so sorry for not posting for so long. But here I am, back with the rest of the story. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you for reading!
> 
> Enjoy :)

They end up half naked and making out against a wall, jeans undone and hanging from their hips, half hard as Luke’s nails scratch against Michael’s scalp and Michael bites over Luke’s lip ring.

_“Years,”_ Luke hisses, mouthing across Michael’s jaw. “How could you let me believe that you has fucked Harry for years?”

Michael huffs breath into Luke’s ear, head tipped back against the wall. “Didn’t know you assumed that,” he mumbles.

“Fuck me,” Luke breathes right into Michael’s ear and his voice is dizzying, thrumming so low that Michael can feel it in his _teeth_. “Michael, _fuck me_.”

Michael’s head spins right off axis as the words shiver down his spine, the sound of his name coated in Luke’s voice makes his stomach tighten. “Oh my _god,”_ he groans, tugging at Luke’s jeans. “Off.”

Luke’s breathless pant of laughter fades across Michael’s throat as he pulls away and his eyes are blazing, with amusement and heat, and all Michael can do is sag against the wall and fumble his own jeans off.

 

*

 

“Wait.”

Michael groans as Luke pulls back. “I’m going to die from blue balls if you keep cockblocking me, Luke Hemmings.”

Luke snorts but the hand in Michael’s hair tightens and he forces Michael to look at him. Blue eyes burn into blown, green-ringed pupils. “That day,” he says, “That day, you said, _write you another song._ Does that—Jet Black Heart, yeah, but that’s…you’ve written songs _for_ me?”

“We’re naked together for the first time and you’re asking me about a _song?”_

Luke pinches his ass. “Just answer the question, asshole,” he mutters, tone quiet, curious and _aching_.

“Luke.” Michael takes his hands from Luke’s thighs and slides them up to cup his jaw, heart brimming. “Luke,” he says softly. “Every song I’ve written has been for you. Every single one.”

He’s knocked back into the bed with a force that leaves him breathless, Luke’s tongue in his mouth and the grip on him bordering painful before he can get another word out. Michael laughs and it breaks into a moan as Luke curls his fingers back around his cock, thumb pressing over the head and rubbing hard along the vein on the underside.

“Shit,” he gasps, pulling away from Luke’s insistent mouth. “Oh— _fuck.”_ Michael spasms as Luke twists his wrist. “ _God.”_

Luke’s laughter is breathless as he pants, wet and hot, against Michael’s cheek. “I know I’m heavenly but it’s just Luke. Also, I love you.”

“Well, I fucking _hate_ you,” Michael groans, pulling Luke’s stupid mouth back to his.

“Sure you do.” Luke grins into his mouth. “Sure y— _oh—!”_

Triumphant, Michael eases the pressure of his fingers away from the gloriously sensitive ring of muscle between Luke’s ass cheeks. “You were saying?”  

“Fuck me,” Luke hisses, grinding their crotches together. “ _Fuck me or I_ will _kill you.”_  

Michael laughs out loud. “You know, for a gay sex virgin, you’re pretty confident about having a cock up your ass.”

“Who said I was a virgin?” Luke twists his hips as he mouths along Michael’s collarbone.

Michael freezes, fingers pressing into the taut muscle of Luke’s ass, and pulls away. “You had sex with a guy and you didn’t _tell_ any of us?”

“What did you want, an official announcement?” Luke snorts, looking a little awkward, nose scrunching. “But no. I…I haven’t, I just—you know…”

It starts to dawn on Michael as he watches the hot blush diffuse in enticing waves down Luke’s neck and across his chest. “Fingers?” He asks absently, reaching up and brushing his fingers across Luke’s chest, grazing a nipple. Luke shivers in his arms. A grin spikes Michael’s mouth. “Sensitive. Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

“Fuck you,” Luke mumbles, arching into the touch as Michael makes the same movement again with more intent.

“That, Luke, is the idea.”

As Michael makes it his mission to make Luke make those high, breathless noises as often as possible, Luke squirms in his lap. Michael rolls his shoulders back, groaning a little as their cocks move together. When he bends to suck Luke’s nipple into his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth, Luke keens high in his throat.

“ _Jesus_ , Luke.” Michael swallows hard at the sound before licking right across the dusky rose peak.

The sudden grip on his neck, the nails in his shoulder, don’t stop him, only urges him on as he switches to the other pebbling nipple.

“I might— _ngh_ —own a dildo.”

The words are a breathless, gasping pant wrenched out of Luke with Michael’s mouth sucking at him and Michael is shocked into pulling away, lips slick and open around a disbelieving exclamation.

Luke’s pupils are blown wide, ringed in icy blue fire, and he’s watching Michael like he wants Michael to _ravage_ him. Michael isn’t opposed at all to the idea.

But he is a little side-tracked in that moment, gaping at Luke. “You. _You_ own a _dildo?”_

Luke is flushed red, a light sheen of sweat over his skin, and he tongues at his lip ring with a half-embarrassed, half-satisfied grin. “Yeah.”

The groan that rips out of Michael is visceral, pained and frustrated as his cock twitches hard at the image of Luke spread across his bed, a moaning mess as he fucks the dildo in and out of his body, head thrown back and drenched in sweat with his other hand stroking his leaking cock.

“We’re—” Michael bites into Luke’s neck, sucking across the stinging skin as Luke hisses in surprise. “We’ll get back to that,” he says. “We’re so, _so_ doing that, but fuck, please let me fuck you.”

Luke’s laughter is drenched in arousal and the kiss he presses to Michael’s mouth is biting, sucking on his bottom lip. His fingers curl around Michael’s cock, hot and sure. “Yeah,” he whispers into Michael’s ear. “I’d like that.”

Michael moans his relief and flips them over so that Luke is pressed into the mattress. “I hope you have lube.”

“I own a dildo, of course I have lube.”

Michael pinches his ass and grins. “Go get it, Boy Scout.”

Luke snorts as he clambers off Michael, almost face-plants into the carpet, and finally gets to his suitcase—Michael drools a little as he watches the sway of Luke’s ass as he walks—pulling out a small bottle and turning around with a grin.

The bottle is halfway to empty.

He is suddenly lightheaded with all the blood that rushes out of his head. “You’re going to kill me,” he groans, squeezing the base of his cock. “After this, we’re gonna have a nice, long discussion about how you managed to hide a _dildo_ from us.”

Luke’s smile is unbearably smug and he runs a hand through his messy hair with an air of satisfaction. “Some secrets are meant to be kept.”

“Get your stubborn ass back on this bed, Hemmings,” Michael huffs.

The bottle of lube hits Michael squarely between the eyes and Luke’s laughter fills the room.

“As you wish, your highness,” Luke murmurs as he straddles his lap.

 

*

 

Michael’s phone buzzes on the bedside table. A message from Luke pops into the group chat.

 

_From: Luke US work_

_I’d like to officially announce that I’ve slept with a man._

 

Michael snorts so hard spit flies out of his mouth and he hurriedly wipes his lips, choking out laughter as Luke’s giggles spill from the open door of the bathroom.

 

_From: Cal US work_

_Nobody asked_

 

_From: Luke US work_

_Mike wanted an official announcement_

_So here it is_

_My ass is no longer a virgin_

 

_From: Ash US work_

_Great_

_Go to sleep_

 

_From: Michael US work_

_Pleasure’s all mine, Mr Hemmings._

 

“You’re an idiot!” Luke yells from the bathroom.

“You literally just messaged our best friends and told them that I fucked you up the ass!” Michael calls back, rolling his eyes.

The toilet flushes.

“ _You_ wanted me to tell them.”

“I wanted you to tell _me.”_

 

_From: Cal US work_

_I’m just gonna add_

_Thank fucking finally_

 

_From: Michael US work_

_We are fucking_

_Finally_

 

_From: Ash US work_

_I’m glad, really I am_

_Now leave me out of this_

_And keep it down because I’m next door_

_I’d like to sleep sometime tonight_

 

_From: Michael US work_

_Get your ass back to this bed, Luke_

 

_From: Luke US work_

_Coming_

 

_From: Michael US work_

_You will be_

 

Luke’s laughter rings around the room as he emerges from the bathroom.

Michael waggles his eyebrows, patting the bed beside him. “It’s a promise I intend to keep.”

“I’m taking you up on that.” Luke winks before tossing the phone into his open suitcase and throwing himself at Michael.

_From: Cal US work_

_FFS_

_I would hate you if I wasn’t so relieved_

 

_Ash US work has left this chat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who's stuck around this long!! I love you all to the moon and back and around the universe. 
> 
> Keep reading! :)


	22. Living not dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for the absence, another chapter! 
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s seven at night as Michael hustles a grinning Luke across the hotel lobby and clear across the street into the dark shadows between street lamps. He can see Johnny walking across the lobby in his sweep of the area, gaze coming just short of them through the glass doors as he gets distracted by his phone.

Michael breathes out slowly, resting his forehead against Luke’s shoulder for a moment. _Cutting it close, Calum._

“Remind me to get Calum those shoes he’s been whining about for months,” he says as he curls his fingers through Luke’s and tugs him down the street. His phone in his other hand has a map lit up, leading to a rooftop restaurant in a hotel a twenty-minute walk from where they are staying. “Remind me also to stop promising to buy things that have been sold out for weeks.”

Luke snorts, shaking his head. “Is that what you promised him for distracting Johnny? The new Yeezys?”

“Amongst a couple other things that are gonna cost a lot more than my dignity,” Michael says with a sigh. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, ya know?”

“I’ll still love you when you’re bald,” Luke says, grinning.

“Gee thanks so much for your generosity.”

Luke squeezes his hand, warm and sure. “You’re welcome.”

Michael throws him a look but laughs anyway. “Come on, dork, we’ve got reservations to keep.”

 

*

 

The restaurant is stunning, with a three-sixty-degree view of Tokyo’s glimmering lights. Above them, the skies are clear and the strings of lights around the balcony lights up Luke’s eyes, makes them glow.

Michael knows that he is staring but he doesn’t think he could help it even if he tried. And he’s not trying.

“Eyes on the menu, Mikey,” Luke says, glancing up with a smirk, but his cheeks are lightly flushed and there’s a pleased look in his eyes when he looks back down.

Michael smiles. “You order. My view is great as it is.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Luke groans, rubbing a hand down his face, red blooming bright across his face. “Shut up.”

He throws his head back and laughs just as the waiter comes over, keeps laughing as a tomato-red Luke gives their order, delighted that it hadn’t even taken wine for Luke to blush like Michael had wanted him to.

“This is weird,” Luke mutters, making a face. “Please insult me or I’m gonna die right now.”

Michael fist pumps, tongue between his teeth as his cheeks ache with a grin. “You’re adorable, you dork, let me enjoy it.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too, babe.”

Luke scowls.

As their appetisers arrive, their conversation turns to Jace and Peyton, and as Michael takes great pleasure in telling the whole Bali story to Luke _finally,_ Luke even stops twitching with every mention of Jace’s name.

“So, wait, all that time I thought you two were fucking in your room, he was off with Peyton and you were _gaming?”_ Luke asks, jaw agape. His eyes glitter. “Are you serious?!”

Michael barely stops himself from spraying sushi all over Luke. Just barely. He takes a long gulp of water and stares at Luke for a moment before chuckling, chest warm.

“Luke, how often did you think we—” He cuts himself off, snorting. “No wonder you were in a pissy, competitive mood every time we saw you.”

Luke huffs and Michael grins when he smiles reluctantly.

“You should’ve seen Roy’s face when he realised that you followed _me_ to your room after he teased you and Jace about keeping it PG,” Luke says, cackling. “I thought I was going to break completely.”

“Jace looked like he was gonna give him a hundred bucks as a thank you,” Michael says, shaking his head. He arches an eyebrow. “Too bad nothing actually happened.”

Luke groans, throwing a piece of tofu at him. “You’re a little shit and I hate you. Besides,” and the look in his eyes is wistful, shimmering as he directs his whole attention to Michael, “I like the way I got to tell you I love you. I know we went through a lot of shit but it was dramatic when it finally happened, and it was in your favourite country and I get to see you loving me in a place where you’re the happiest.”

Michael stares, wide eyed, at the beautiful boy in front of him, and his cheeks flush with heat, hands frozen on his cutlery. His heartbeat is going a little wild and he swallows thickly, blinking himself out of his trance as Luke huffs a laugh and reach across the table to sweep a thumb over his cheek.

“Beautiful.”

Speechless beyond compare, Michael has to look away from Luke’s brilliant blue eyes to be able to breathe.

“You’re right,” he says, voice raspy. He clears it, squirming in his chair. “This is weird and you should insult me immediately.”

Luke’s laughter is the best sound Michael has ever heard in his life.

The rest of the dinner, their first date, follows much the same way, teasing each other mercilessly and making each other blush with something more than the bite of the wine.

 

*

 

It happens when they’re cutting across an alley because Luke insisted it was a shortcut to the ice cream place he was certain he’d seen on the way.

“Dude, I’m pretty sure—”

The breath is punched out of his lungs as something catches him hard around the chest, words trailing off into a wheeze as he glimpses a man’s sharp chin before his arm is twisted behind his back and a forearm squeezes against his throat.

_“Michael!”_

Dizzy from the sudden attack, Michael struggles against the hold, eyes frantic as they search the near darkness for Luke.

He finds him fending off a second man, ducking as the bald man swings at his head and tries to make a grab for the wallet in Luke’s back pocket as he does so. Luke jumps out of reach before he can.

_“Luke!”_ He chokes out, _“Lu—”_

Sharp Chin tightens his hold and Michael’s voice crumples into a strangled whine. He tries to get his other elbow free, ignoring the twinge of his twisted arm, managing to get enough space to drive it hard into the asshole’s side. Something hissed and angry is said into his ear in rapid-fire Japanese and Michael only struggles harder, terrified that he might choke to death in a back alley in Tokyo and he’d have to watch Luke get hurt right in front of him.

But it’s that thought make him pause and he stops struggling, holding himself as still as he can with his heart pounding in his chest so hard he could feel it shaking through him.

A relieved exhale punches out of him when Luke manages to knee Baldy in the crotch, sending him sprawling across the filthy ground into the side of an external radiator unit with a sharp kick to his chest. There’s a metallic clang as his head slams against the side of it. The grin on Luke’s face is dangerous as he swings around.

“You wanna go, man?” He asks, but his eyes are edged and panicked as they meet Michael’s, mouthing _I got this,_ throat bobbing before he looks away, back up to Sharp Chin. “Huh? Let go of my boyfriend, asshole, let’s fucking _go.”_

Michael winces as Sharp Chin makes a move like he might throw him into the wall but he doesn’t, letting Michael drop as he fires off crude Japanese curses—which were of course the first things Michael learnt after _hello_ and _thank you_ —as he charges at Luke. Michael gasps in a lungful of stale air but he can’t look away.

Luke’s grin returns with a vengeance and Michael leans against the graffiti-lined wall, jaw dropping as the man goes running headfirst into the opposite wall when Luke somehow fucking _apparates_ out of the way.

Sharp Chin’s roar of pain is surprisingly powerful for a man who is that skinny as he reverberates off the concrete – then again, he’s really fucking strong, judging by the bruises Michael can feel forming on his left wrist.

As he spins around slowly and clumsily, clutching at his head, Luke kicks him square across the chest. Sharp Chin flies back and his head makes a sickening impact with the wall once again. He falls into a heap and doesn’t move.

Michael almost laughs. His stomach churns. Bile burns at the base of his throat.

Luke is panting as he makes sure Asshole #1 isn’t getting back up for a while. Michael makes his way to where Asshole #2 lying crumpled next to the radiator unit. He’s still out cold.

“Holy shit,” he says, for the lack of anything better or appropriate.  

Luke exhales hard, glancing up at Michael before he rolls to his feet and stands up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, you were…” He shakes his head, swallowing hard. He gestures a vague hand over Luke’s body. “Are you okay?”

Luke picks his way across the alley to him, curls a warm hand at the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss. Michael melts into it, curling his fingers into Luke’s shirt at his hips and letting his mouth fall open.

They kiss until Luke isn’t shaking under his hands, until Michael can stop pulling Luke closer as his heart threatens to climb out of his chest, until they are both sure the other is okay, is right there in front of them.

“I love you,” Luke whispers, pulling away to rest his forehead against Michael’s. His breath is warm and coffee-scented as it puffs against Michael’s mouth. “I love you.”

Michael digs his nails into Luke’s hips. “I love you, always,” he murmurs, stealing another kiss, brushing their mouths together slowly. “Let’s never do that again.”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes Luke and he eases back with a small smile, slipping his hand into Michael’s and leading them down, out of the alley and into a well-lit road with a few more people.

“Sounds like a plan.”

They walk for a while in silence, letting the night settle into their bones and calm their racing hearts, watching the bustle of people in restaurants, listening to the laughter and music that filled the streets.

Luke’s words echo in Michael’s ears now as he thinks back over the almost robbery, the cocksure tilt of his head and the _come at me bro_ written into his movements as he’d egged on Sharp Chin.

_You wanna go, man? Let go of my boyfriend, asshole, let’s fucking GO!_

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s ridiculously attractive. What’s worse than those fighting words is the actual fighting.

The image of Luke kicking that guy right across the chest is seared in Michael’s brain and it makes his gut churn with something that is painfully close to arousal. Because he _knows_ that Luke trains and exercises and does all the shit Michael has never really wanted to be doing but now has no choice but to do. But _knowing_ and _seeing_ those moves in action are two very different things, and dear all that is holy, Luke knows how to fight.

Michael always had a few things to say about Mack and the hours Luke had spent with him in the gym back in LA, sweaty and often shirtless. But this is one the rare moments that he is _glad_ – most other moments include some degree of shirtlessness or pretending to not be looking when Luke’s lifting weights before a show. So maybe not all that rare, but the point is, Michael is glad Luke spends inordinate amounts of time lifting weights and boxing and apparently, learning self-defence.

Fuck.

“That went well,” he says instead of the thousand thoughts rushing through his head, the look he throws over his shoulder a jerk of his neck, leftover shock and adrenalin bubbling under his skin. “I’m sorry.”

Their first date is ruined. All Michael had wanted was to have a nice time and spoil Luke a little in his favourite city in the entire world, is that honestly too much to ask?

Luke squeezes his hand. “Don’t apologise. Unless you _planned_ for us to be ambushed in an alley as part of the Michael Clifford Date Experience. Did you plan that?” Michael scowls at him because none of this is fucking _funny_ but Luke is laughing, darting in to press a kiss to the corner of Michael’s downturned mouth. “It’s _okay,_ Michael.”

“But—”

“We’ve never done it the easy way, Mikey, why start now?” Luke’s grin is quicksilver as he tugs on Michael’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get back to the hotel.”

Michael laughs like it’s been punched out of him, relief and surprise probably clear in the snap-flicker of his eyes across and over Luke’s face. He lets Luke pull him in the direction of the hotel, sighing. “I just wanted to take you out, to have fun…”

“And we did,” Luke says, smile soft. “I had a great night, Mikey, I promise. Dinner was amazing, _you_ are amazing. I love you, okay? So, what if I had to save you from a few desperate guys looking for an extra dollar…or yen? I got to play Superman and save my Lois Lane. That can only impress you more.”  

He tries to enjoy the banter, to treasure the twinkling glint in Luke’s eyes, to huff and say _rude, who says I’m the damsel in distress_ and _fuck you, I’ve been impressed since you were a stubby fourteen-year-old,_ but the teasing slips over him like satin through dry fingers.

“We’ve been through so much shit already,” Michael groans, irritation simmering under his skin, and drags his free hand down his face, tipping his head back to stare up at the muffled stars for a moment. He looks back to Luke. “Why is it so fucking hard to have one good day with you?”

Luke stops, turning around. In that moment, under the soft glow of Tokyo’s street lamps, Michael falls more in love with him. The look on his face is stripped raw, a little vulnerable and entirely honest despite the teasing lilt to the answer when it comes.

“Because it’s worth going through hell for the things you love,” Luke says quietly and Michael’s cheeks heat as Luke brushes his fingers the cold-flushed skin. “For the people you love.”

“You’re—” Michael clears his throat as his voice cracks, shaking his head, and squeezes Luke’s hand. The corners of his mouth tip down before they curl up into a smile that makes his chest tighten. “I hate you a little, you know?”

Grinning, Luke presses a lightning-fast kiss over the arched corner of Michael’s mouth, making the smile rise higher. “I know. Wouldn’t be us otherwise, would it?”

No, Michael guesses not. He huffs a soft laugh. “Let’s go before I freeze my balls off.”

“Romantic. But I suppose we wouldn’t want that,” Luke says with a leer as they resume walking. “Be a shame to lose those before I get a hand on them. They’re nice, perfect size for your dick—”

“Luke.”

Michael swallows, slow and suddenly aching past his throat. His body goes from relatively under control to mind-numbingly turned on in 0.2 seconds. His heart throbs somewhere in his dick. It’s all extremely unromantic but Michael almost can’t be bothered because first date or not, they’re still _them._ And Michael is still stupidly turned on by Luke just being Luke, five years on.

“You’re not helping. If you don’t shut up, I’m literally going to suck you off in the middle of the fucking street and somehow I _don’t_ think Japan will ever have us back after that and I’d rather not be banned from the best country on this godforsaken planet.”

Luke’s laugh rings around them, clear and beautiful as a bell. Passers-by swing around for a moment, staring, before hurrying on their way. Michael thinks they should pay far more attention to the enchanting, possibly ethereal being beside him. People really do have terrible taste. But Michael tripped way over the line of bias several years ago.  

“Really, the romance. It’s slaying.” The words fall out of Luke alongside a grin that glints with mirth, blue eyes dark and amused in the low light of the streetlights in the late hour. “Slaying itself in shame.”

Michael fights back the urge to snarl and fails as his dick twitches in his jeans when Luke’s eyes catch the light and the patented Luke Hemmings Smoulder™ bleeds past the amusement. “I’m ten seconds away from dropping to my fucking knees.”

“Then take me back to the hotel and fuck me before you get us arrested for public indecency.”

Michael has never wanted to kill someone more in his life.

For all that Luke is beautiful, he’s sinfully seductive when he speaks like that; low and sexy, heated, voice resonating like the twang of a double bass right through Michael’s very soul. The rising flames of lust that burn in his stomach fan the urge to push Luke into the sign of a fish market on the street corner and kiss him until the sole sounds out of his annoyingly rosy mouth are gasps of mindless, fevered pleasure and moans of Michael’s name.

The only thing that stops him is the thought of the warm room and king-sized bed waiting for them.

Luke is laughing as Michael scowls hard and all but drags him towards their hotel.  

 

*

 

Luke can’t walk the next morning, physically unable to take more than a step before his ass aches and his knees buckle.

Michael collapses back onto the bed and laughs until he’s gasping, close to tears, ribs shifting and expanding in vain as weak giggles leak out of him.

It’s not really the _next_ morning because they had all but fallen into bed in an exhausted but sated heap around three a.m. after fucking once against the wall, then on the bed and finally in the shower, slow and unhurried, and had woken up just past eight thirty when Luke’s alarm had scared the living daylights out of Michael.

He doesn’t stop laughing though, even when Luke whacks him hard over the head with a pillow and hisses.

“This is _your_ fault, you dick.”

“Well,” Michael wheezes amidst another round of cackling laughter that echoes back at them like the manic laughter of a witch. “It _was_ my dick.”

That earns him another round of pummelling with the pillow and all Michael can do is roll around on the bed and try not to die from asphyxiation. _God,_ that word alone makes him uncomfortable.

Luke grimaces eventually, setting down the pillow and cupping one butt cheek in his hand. “Fuck. I won’t be able to perform like this tonight.”

A strangled, breathless noise comes from Michael. Mostly of amusement but arousal burns in his stomach, knowing that Luke would be on that stage feeling exactly how hard Michael had fucked him last night every time he moved.

“I’m fucking you next time,” Luke mutters with a grumble, rolling onto his stomach. “I can’t even sit properly. Today is gonna be a bitch to get through.”

Michael stretches out on the bed with a satisfied grin, eyes half-lidded. “It’s good pain, Luke, embrace it.”

“Let’s fucking see how you feel when it’s _you_ who can’t walk next time.”

“I’d be half-hard all day because I’d feel every single place your dick was inside me,” Michael says, squirming as his cock really does perk up. “I’d walk, feeling you inside me with every single step. I’d sit down and I’d feel you there. Every time I _breathe,_ I’d know exactly what you’d done to me. I’d _love_ it. Bet your pretty little ass on that.”

Luke is staring at him with blown pupils and spit-slick lips that are fallen open by the time Michael finishes speaking. Michael smirks and slides a lingering hand over his cock, sighing a little. Luke’s eyes follow the movement like it’s magnetic.

“Yeah,” falls out of him, sounding a little choked, before his eyes fly up from Michael’s cock to meet his gaze. His throat bobs as he swallows. “…what?”

Michael grins. “Like what you see?”

Luke is between his legs, Michael’s cock in his mouth before Michael can count to three. A gasping sound tears out of him, mirrored by Luke as a pained grimace flees across his face when the sudden movement tugs at the sore muscles in his ass.

“ _Fuck.”_

Michael can only tighten his white-knuckled grip on the bed sheets and stifle the moan that bubbles up in his throat when Luke sucks on the head and licks an unrelenting stripe from root to tip before sinking down with slow, agonising precision until Michael can feel the flutter of Luke’s throat around him.

Michael shudders, blood rushing down until he’s fully hard, ears roaring as countless, whimpering sounds tumble out of his mouth with each unrelenting pull of lips and the sudden overwhelming feeling that burns through him as Luke slides all the way up, tongues the slit as his hand twists up and down along him, other hand clenched into Michael’s thigh.

“This—” Michael groans, hips bucking. “Not— _Luke—”_

His entire body is thrumming, vibrating like a taut guitar string and Luke is playing him like he does an actual guitar, relentless and with raw talent, until he’s right on the edge, a crescendo of tightening lust, a peak that has his body arching up off the bed like a bow.

It snaps suddenly like a cut string when Luke presses his tongue hard to the vein underneath, sucking with renewed vigour, and Michael’s shouting out, a hoarse yell of Luke’s name and a stream of profanities, as he spills into the wet heat of Luke’s mouth.

Michael collapses, a discarded rag doll, boneless and brainless, struggling for breath. His vision spins with bright flashes and spots of colour for long seconds until he can breathe a little easier. He looks at Luke then, watching the hard, fast movement of his hand over his cock as he leans over Michael, open-mouthed and panting as he lets out a high-pitched groan and comes over his hand, pearly white liquid spilling onto Michael’s stomach as it spurts out.

Luke falls forward, just managing to catch himself before he crushes Michael. His mouth is shining, lips swollen, wet with come and spit, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy. He looks like Michael feels.

“What was that?” Michael asks after a moment filled only by Luke’s heavy breathing.

Luke laughs, languid and orgasm-stupid, dropping his head, forehead grazing Michael’s collarbones. “I think it’s called a blowjob.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Michael mutters, closing his eyes for a moment. “Your sass won’t bring you orgasms.”

Luke looks up and smirks. “Oh yeah? Thought it just did, bro.”

“Bro?” Michael gapes at him. “ _Bro?_ You just had my dick in your mouth! You can’t call me _bro!”_

Laughter bubbles out of Luke and his eyes sparkle. Michael’s heart expands to the size of the sun and a smile, dopey and small, pulls at his mouth. It feels like he has liquid gold coursing through his veins.

Luke presses a kiss to his mouth, grinning. “You’re my best friend, I’ll call you what I want. Bros and boyfriends. Bros that are boyfriends. Brofriends?”

As Luke contemplates some of the most _no homo_ labels Michael has ever heard, a sudden thought comes to Michael’s mind, a thing he’d read on Tumblr once, and he cackles a little before he voices it.

“Bintang bros become Bintang boyfriends.”

Luke splutters, spit spraying Michael in the face, as he falls on top of him, face pressed into Michael’s neck as he laughs, shoulders shaking.

Making a face, Michael wipes the saliva and the mess on their stomachs away with a discarded shirt and joins in, curling Luke into his arms and rolling them onto their sides.

“I love you,” he murmurs as their laughter settles into exasperated smiles and dusky-rose cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re alright too,” Luke says. When Michael gives him a wry look, he chuckles and presses his lips to Michael’s shoulder and tucks his face into Michael’s neck. “Okay, fine. I love you too. Sap.”

 

*

 

They end up twenty-three minutes late to the interviews for the Tokyo music shows and radio stations, which Michael counts as a win. But for once, Ashton doesn’t chew them out. Michael finds himself gaping at the drummer when he just raises his eyebrows, shares an unreadable glance with Calum and keeps talking to one of the hosts behind the cameras.

“Did someone drug Ashton?” He asks, grabbing Calum’s arm as they approach him. “He doesn’t look even a _little_ pissed. Quick, someone call an ambulance, he’s losing it.”

Calum rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee, pulling the beanie further down his head and looking monumentally unimpressed with the world at large. “You’re earlier than we expected.”

“Huh?” Luke blinks, glancing at Michael.

He makes a face and turns back to Calum. “Explain.”

Calum sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and takes another fortifying gulp of his coffee. “It’s really too early for this. Okay, look,” he says, “it was your first date last night. We let you off the hook. It’s been a long-ass time coming and we’re tired. Besides, we told you an earlier time so you wouldn’t actually be late.”

Michael laughs, throwing an arm over his best friend’s shoulders. “Devious, I like it! Also, I’m sorry and I love you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, y’all better love me—love _us_ , after all the shit we put up with.” But Calum is grinning despite his words and he turns a sharp eyebrow on Luke then, says, “maybe try and limp a little less, cowboy,” and walks away. The _badum-tss_ echoes silently, savagely, behind him.  

An unattractive snort comes from Michael and Luke scowls, shoving his shoulder, before walking—definitely limping—over to Ashton to silently beg for his sympathy. One of the hosts asks if he had injured himself and Michael’s laughter flies above them, earning a dirty look from his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend._

Michael chuckles fondly and heads to greet the hosts himself, to actually do the job that he is being paid for. His chest bubbles with something that feels golden and warms him in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Luke’s fingers find his neck, warm and sure, as he slips into the little circle next to him and Michael smiles to himself as one of the men reaches out to shake his hand.

Things would never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Click next chapter ;)
> 
> xx


	23. It's me and you forever (epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAANNNDDD IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER!!!! 
> 
> Thank you so so much to anyone's who's stuck with me through this entire gigantic undertaking. I've had the BEST TIME writing this fic and it's been absolutely insane. It took two years, countless moments of teeteering close to the edge and giving up bUT I DIDN'T. I really wanted to finish this fic because I love it to death. 
> 
> Anyways, here's the epilogue. I've had this written since like February 2016 so hahahaha Anyways, I love y'all so so much. Thanks for being on this crazy ride.
> 
> Enjoy!

Michael runs off stage, adrenalin and endorphins kicking in his veins, laughter caught in his mouth as he shakes his head at a furiously blushing Luke.

“I have never seen two people more obvious,” Calum snorts as he hands over his in-ears. “World Record for the least subtle people in existence.”

Ashton is laughing as he approaches them, wiping back the sweaty mess of his hair. “Subtlety is an art form that these two losers will never master. Luke, did you almost kiss Michael just then?”

Calum darts up to Ashton, pulling a lovesick look, dramatically going in for his face as Ashton, mimicking panic, fends off his hands and goes for his armpits. They fall apart, chortling.

“Fuck off,” Luke groans.

Michael can’t hold back the besotted grin as he watches the red flush burn across Luke’s cheeks, absently plucking the battery pack off his jeans and handing it, along with his in-ears, to a sound tech and ignores the smirk on the guy’s face.

“Fuck’s sake,” Calum says. “Ashton, do you have your noise-cancelling headphones? Because neither of us are sleeping without awkward boners tonight otherwise.”

Michael flips him the finger, other hand already curling around the back of Luke’s neck as he pulls them towards the dressing room. “Bitch, you wish you could get laid.”

The smirk that pulls at Calum’s lips is _wicked,_ lewd and every other synonym for _sinful_ in the thesaurus, and he locks eyes with Ashton in a way that sends alarms clanging in Michael’s head. His jaw drops open.

“ _You?”_ He gapes, swinging around to an Ashton who’s edging away with a shady expression and trying to remain uninvolved. “And _you?”_

Luke takes one look between the rhythm section and snorts. “So, it was definitely you two I heard in that storage closet in Verona. I had myself convinced that it was some insane nightmarish hallucination. But really, surely you have more class than a _closet._ ”

Reeling, Michael gapes at his boyfriend and splutters. _Why hadn’t he heard about this?_ Luke pulls him into the dressing room with a roll of his eyes.

Ashton just laughs, blasé attitude tinged with slight hysteria as Calum swings an arm over his shoulders. “It’s—that is, we’re—well, Calum doesn’t—I mean—we didn’t—”

Michael watches on, bewildered. It’s been a hell of a long time since he’s seen Ashton so completely speechless and flustered.

“We’ve been fucking since Bali,” Calum declares cheerfully as the door shuts firmly behind them. “Ashton gives the best blowjobs in the world _.”_

_“Calum.”_

“What? It’s not a lie, _babe_.” Calum waggles his eyebrows at his…fuck buddy? Lover? _Boyfriend? HUSBAND?!_ It could be anything with these two. “You do that thing—”

Ashton, face flushed red, shoves a hand in Calum’s face as he walks past. “Please shut the fuck up.”

Michael falls onto the couch with groan, clutching at his head. “TMI, Calum, holy shit. I can’t deal with this. My brain is going to explode. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Ashton snorts, giving him an amused look. “I did, dipshit. It’s not my fault you didn’t believe me.”

Michael freezes as he realises what Ashton is referring to. Because that’s when _everything_ clicks. That’s when Michael understand what the fuck he’s been missing for the past three months.

“Oh my _god._ I—you were _joking!_ You were fucking joking! Ashton—you hadn’t—that was fucking unfair! You were joking! And that was _before_ you apparently starting fucking!”

“I wasn’t,” the eldest chuckles. “You just thought I was. Like I said, subtlety is an art form.” He shrugs. “Jace gives good advice, you know.”

“Of course, he—wait.” Michael stares at Ashton, jaw hanging. “Are you _fucking serious?! That’s_ what you two were always talking about? _That’s_ what you’ve been hiding all this time? You being ass over tit for _Calum?!_ ” When Ashton gives a sheepish nod, Michael huffs. “And he told you to go for it, didn’t he? Because Calum’s ass over tit for you too! That little _shit…_ matchmaking behind my back…everything makes so much sense now.”

He falls silent, dropping his head back, and stares at the ceiling in disbelief.  

Luke, however, is cackling as he grabs a bottle of water. “ _Oh Ashton,”_ he gasps in an overly dramatic fashion, clutching at his chest. “ _Oh yeah, that’s—just like that, unggh, fuck—there—harder!”_ He’s giggling as he switches over to Ashton. _“Cal—oh yeah, fuck you feel so good, baby, yeah, oh—good boy, ohhh—”_

Luke cuts himself off, leaning against the dressing table and proceeds to double over with laughter.

 _“Good boy—!”_ The shock melts away into hysteria and tears pool in Michael’s eyes as he laughs and laughs and laughs, stomach cramping as Ashton flushes a bright, annoyed red.

“I do _not_ sound like that!” Calum exclaims, looking appalled. “I do not—Ash, _I don’t!_ ”

Ashton, despite looking severely embarrassed with a side of _fuck-please-get-me-out-of-here_ , snorts. “Yeah, you do, babe. But,” he shrugs, flashing a sharp grin, “you know I like it.”  

Michael moans weakly, stomach cramping, as he tries to breath. “This is the best worst news I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“This entire band is so fucking gay,” Luke states, lifting his water bottle for a toast. “Cheers, y’all, we just became _that_ band. You do realise that the fans _weren’t_ wrong all this time? We’ve just been idiots for the past five years.”

Ashton’s aim is impeccable as ever and the shoe clips Luke right on the wrist, sending the bottle flying and water cascading over him. “Never say _y’all_ again.”

Zoe walks in amidst Luke’s annoyed squawking and Michael can only wave a general hand in Ashton’s direction as he gives into the laughter that threatens to drown him.

“Don’t even want to know,” Zoe says immediately. “And Luke, please try to control yourself. I know you want to kiss Michael all the time but the stage isn’t the place to do it. Calum, please try to look _less_ like you’re thinking of climbing over the drum kit into Ashton’s lap. As for the two of you...” She eyes Michael and Ashton before sighing, closing her eyes for a moment. “Control your urges before you create a PR nightmare. We’ll discuss the specifics later. For now, just. Eat your dinner. Bus call in forty.”

Michael marvels at Zoe. How does the woman know _everything?_

Calum innocently flutters his eyelashes at her but his cheeks are flushing red even as they all laugh at a horrified Luke.

“Anything for you, Zo Zo.”

He snorts as Zoe looks about one more _Zo Zo_ away from punching something before she breathes out slowly, ruffles Calum’s sweaty fringe and walks out.

“She fucking loves me,” Calum says smugly and plops down on a couch, picking up a fork before stabbing a pair of green beans with it.

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Eat your dinner.”

Michael thinks that Ashton is still bitter because Calum got the jump on him this tour, because he managed to charm his way into the good books of the crew before Ashton could even get to the venue, because Nat in catering saves him an extra piece of Sheppard’s pie on the rare occasions they have it, and _especially_ because Zoe seems to have a gigantic soft spot for Calum and he could literally do no wrong in her eyes.  

Well, Michael doesn’t think Ashton can expect those things anymore when he’s clearly given up trying to be responsible for the four of them.

“Yes, daddy.” Calum says.

Michael chokes on nothing as Ashton throws Calum an exasperated glare. “Please,” he begs. “Please keep your kinks to yourselves. I have a sensitive stomach.”

“I will kink shame you all the way to Pluto if there’s a daddy kink involved,” Luke says, wiping himself down before he sits down opposite Calum and picks up a plate.

Calum says nothing, that annoyingly docile grin still firmly in place as he eats. Ashton sighs heavily and sits down on the floor in front of the third plate.

“I hate this band,” he mutters as he stabs the knife into the salmon. But he doesn’t deny anything and Michael finds that interesting. Slightly disturbing, but interesting.

“That, my overgrown Frodo,” Michael says out loud, shifting on the couch and planting himself next to Luke, squishing their shoulders together, “is one of the realest things you’ve ever said.”

Luke smiles at him, soft and lovely and beautiful. Michael can’t resist curling a hand around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. A kiss that’s long overdue since that near-miss on stage. The way Luke melts into it has shivers rippling down his spine.

“Ash,” Calum whines.

“No, you fuck,” Ashton groans. “I am not kissing you after that.”

Michael pulls away from Luke with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You should kiss him or he’ll look like a kicked puppy for the rest of this meal and I might be forced to take action. Do I need to give you the shovel talk? You hurt him, you’ll have to fight me.”

Luke huffs an amused laugh under his breath, something like _sure Jan_ along with it, which Michael elects to ignore. Because, _rude._

Ashton straight up rolls his eyes and Michael has never felt so insulted in his life. He could totally take Ashton. Not in a fair fight, but Michael knows how to cheat against these three. Ashton’s ribs are particularly sensitive. A pinch or a bite and it’s all over.

 _“Aaaaaaaashtoooooon,”_ Calum drags out and pouts emphatically at the end, bottom lip jutting out in a pure childish gamble for attention.

Michael always finds great amusement in watching Ashton cave spectacularly to Calum and it’s no different in that moment as Ashton throws down his cutlery, stands up, grabs Calum by his shirt and hauls him in by the neck for a short, hard kiss—did he just _bite_ —before he releases him, sits back down and continues to eat like nothing happened.

Seeing his best friends kiss is not as weird as Michael had thought it would be. Huh. Clearly, they’re all just behind the times and their fans have been onto something for years. He resolves to pay more attention to the shit their fans say in the future. Cashton AF and all that.

Calum blinks for a few seconds, dazed, before a red flush bites along his cheeks and he ducks his head to eat the rest of the meal in silence.

Luke nudges Michael, a grin curling into dimples as he rolls his eyes when Michael looks at him, jerking his chin in Ashton’s direction instead. Michael swings around to look at the eldest and shakes his head when he sees the pleased smile lurking beneath the tumble of hair that’s failing to hide Ashton’s face as he casts furtive glances up at Calum between bites of salmon.

 _Fucking since Bali_ , _my_ ass _,_ Michael thinks. They’ve probably been dating for just as long. They’ve probably been inadvertently dating since Calum had proposed to Ashton outside the Annandale, now that he thinks about it. Idiots. _Cute_ idiots. But idiots nonetheless.

But hey, he can’t talk, can he?

Michael presses a kiss to Luke’s shoulder, earning a fond smile, before he too leans forward and starts to eat.

 

*

 

The next morning, there’s a customary text from Louis about last night’s stage incident when Michael goes to check the time. _Subtle as a flying brick, mate_ it reads and Michael snorts quietly in amusement as Louis’ fond accent echoes in his head like a memory. A text from Jace pops up just as he goes to set the phone down and Michael laughs aloud before reading it to Luke.

 _I think you missed,_ it says cheerfully. There’s a YouTube link pasted underneath and Michael rolls his eyes— _why_ do his words always get used against him—already knowing what it is.

Luke yanks the phone out of Michael’s hand, throws it into the open suitcase on the floor and pulls him back under the covers, cuddling into him. “It’s too early for phones.”

“Jealous?” Michael teases as he runs his fingers over Luke’s warm skin and tangles their fingers together between them.

Unimpressed blue eyes flicker up at him. “Not even a little bit.”

Michael grins. “I love you.”

“Yeah.”

Luke’s expression is soft as he traces Michael’s jaw. He presses his mouth to Michael’s in a soft, breathtaking kiss before pulling away, letting their breathing and heartbeats settle into a pattern in the warm, sleep-soft atmosphere under the sheets.

“I love you too.”

It’s silent for a few beats and Michael revels in the quiet contentment he feels, settling deep into his bones like the first breath of spring. That is until Luke opens his big mouth.

“You know, I’m considering getting a tattoo.”

Michael goes to open his mouth, to say _thank fucking finally,_ but Luke beats him to the punch.

“How does _I really suck too_ sound?”

He yanks the pillow from under his head and smashes it down on Luke’s face. “That fucking song needs to be burnt in the deepest pits of hell. You should tattoo it on your fucking forehead. Asshole.”

Delighted, squeaky laughter rings around the room, shattering the soft morning, as Luke rolls out from underneath the pillow and launches himself at Michael with a roar, making them tumble off the bed with the momentum.

They land on the carpet with a heavy thud, Michael pinning Luke to the floor with exasperation bubbling under his skin.

“You’re an idiot,” Michael tells him, hands braced on the floor on either side of Luke’s head.

Luke grins up at him, blue eyes beautiful and bright. He reaches upward to brush a hand through Michael’s fringe, trailing his fingers down his stubbled cheeks. His thumb rolls over Michael’s lower lip slowly and Michael nips at it.

“Yeah,” Luke says, and his smile is gleeful, “but I’m your idiot.”

Michael groans and drops his weight down, landing with his chin tucked over Luke’s shoulder, legs entwined. “That was so cheesy, oh my god, why are you like this.”

Luke presses a kiss to Michael’s bare shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist. His voice is warm and proud when he speaks. “You love cheese.”

Michael turns his face into Luke’s neck, laughing softly, helplessly. His chest aches in the best way.

“I love you more.”

 

THE END ( _finally)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all of you!! 
> 
> All the love, 
> 
> N xx

**Author's Note:**

> You guys seem to be enjoying it??? THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE <3 
> 
> My tumblr is: aneverendingreplay  
> Come and say hi! Hit me up to yell and cry and scream with me, whether it's at 5sos or life


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